


Flying Shoes

by MissWonnykins



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, F/M, M/M, No Misty Bashing, Palletshipping, Secondary Pokeshipping that will not take up the entire story, Suicide Attempt, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teen Years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2487626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWonnykins/pseuds/MissWonnykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repairing the bridge burned doesn't mean people won't jump off of it. A high-school story about the boy who tried to fix everything the moment it all broke around him and about the other boy who was responsible for breaking it all one Tuesday afternoon. The reality is there, like a pale hand dangling off the side of a yellow stretcher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fractured

**Author's Note:**

> I really did need to start writing again. I've toyed with this idea for some time, and am pleased to finally be posting it. Please note that this story deals with teen drama in a high-school setting, as well as suicide and the topics surrounding it. Trigger warnings for bullying on physical, mental, and emotional levels also apply. Warnings may change at a later date to reflect new content.
> 
> In reality, I am a giant asshole to Gary Oak even though I profess that he is my favorite character. I apologize. Enjoy the first chapter, and look for more coming soon.

As short a time as it is compared to the average life-span of human beings, high-school exists as its own life span. You are born a freshman and die a senior, reborn as an adult who is thrust into a wide world that you didn't have time to learn about. What you do at any point in your 'lifetime' at high-school follows you for the rest of it, up until you graduate, and maybe even lives on as a legend in some regards if you do well enough/fuck up enough. Sometimes your previous life as a middle school-er comes into play, and if that happens, you'd better hope you were considered cool from fifth to eighth grade.  
   
People will live to talk about you, to your face or not. Sometimes the pressure is too much.  
   
Gary Oak tried to commit suicide on a Tuesday in November.  
   
It was pressure, all kinds of pressure.  
   
Hey, it happens out there in the real world. What better way to remind the superficial society in the school walls that the harsh reality is out there then to bring death knocking at the bathroom door?  
   
Gary Oak tried to over-dose on a pill cocktail in the boys' bathroom on the second floor, just down the hall from the science lab his grandfather taught.  
   
It's funny how the crowds of people who ribbed him and shoved him into lockers and scratched the barrage of insults into his locker suddenly were scared and even frightened of him, then sympathetic and wailing about 'what a nice guy' he was, and then back to relentless teasing within the span of a week.  
   
Gary Oak tried to end it all and failed, a week before his sixteenth birthday. He was unconscious in the bathroom and Ash Ketchum was just sitting in Samuel Oak's lesson on cell biology when the vice principal burst in, the commotion down the hall having distracted the class enough for a few minutes before hand. Ash Ketchum was there to see the look on the teacher's face change from irritated to horrified in a split second before the old man ran out the door, the adrenaline he displayed startling all of his students and even the vice principal.  
   
Ash Ketchum was there when the vice principal, after whispering something they hadn't heard, told them that 'there's been an accident' with 'one of your fellow students'. He was there when someone in the hall screamed that it was Gary Oak in that bathroom and he wasn't breathing and oh god he was dead, he was so fucking dead as a doornail. That was probably Dawn Berlitz, he remembered vaguely thinking, but couldn't be bothered to care about that. He remembered just about everyone rushing the door, vultures eager to see the corpse before it was carried off on a stretcher. He remembered pushing through the crowd when someone announced the body in the bathroom was breathing, that it opened its eyes wide and puked bloody foam before seizing, remembered the crowd being held back by teachers.  
   
He remembered his science teacher screaming in emotional agony.  
   
Ash Ketchum remembered the day and how real it felt. Even after the stretcher left, the utter raw feeling didn't leave him, probably didn't leave anybody for a good long while. The last thing he was able to see before the staff started screaming about putting people in detention if they didn't go back to class was a very pale hand just dangling off of the yellow stretcher as it was whisked down the hall.  
   
That was the most real looking hand Ash Ketchum had ever seen.  
   
Gary Oak was only dead for thirty seconds, but they were the most real thirty seconds in Ash's life.  
   
\--  
   
Before Gary Oak decided that his life was shit and that he'd rather end it all, Ash Ketchum did not know the meaning of 'real'. He was another teenager shunted from class to class, involved in the social hierarchy that came with being on a sports team, even if it wasn't the fabulous football team all the girls loved. He pitched for the baseball team, and he was good at it. He was friendly, and liked to talk. People liked Ash. He had tons of friends, close ones, good ones, from all kinds of social circles. People who weren't friends with him were friendly TO him. His grades could have been better, but he was pushing a high C average and that was enough to keep him on his team and his mother from being angry with him.  
   
Time to time he noticed the tormenting that went on to those who weren't as socially accepted as he was. Some of the people he stood up for, some he didn't. Sometimes he stopped a beating going down behind the bleachers, other times he pretended he hadn't seen. He knew Gary Oak was one of the people he ignored, more of habit then anything else. Gary was a kid who, in middle school, had been the absolute shit. He was popular and rich and EVERYONE wanted to be friends with the asshole. He and Gary had a petty sort of rivalry that lasted past eighth grade. At some point, though, something changed, and Ash hadn't noticed what it was, but rather that it had come to pass.  
   
Gary stopped going out of his way to antagonize from the get-go, and that was a mistake because it made him seem weak. Ash couldn't say he didn't find it funny that now Gary was the one getting the barrage of verbal abuse. He couldn't admit that he didn't snicker when he saw some of the words sharpied into the metal above the lock on Gary's locker. He even shoved the other boy once or twice, but Gary didn't shove back. He hadn't meant anything by the shove: he did it to his buddies. In fact, he was sure he even said something like 'sup, Gary' before doing it. But Gary got shoved and didn't shove back. He used to, as a freshman. He apparently was scrappy and fought back, much to the dismay of his grandfather and the principal. He had bloody noses and black eyes sometimes. Later in the year, and then into Sophomore year, though, Gary stopped fighting back when people would shove him or hit him. He stopped retorting when people insulted him. He kept his eyes forward and kept walking.  
   
Ash wasn't sure what changed, but Gary would get shoved and the boy would just give him this look. A hurt, sort of bitter expression, like there was something Ash had missed and that he didn't get why Ash was trying to say something nice.  
   
Something was wrong, but Ash didn't think about it until they carted Gary out of the school on a stretcher, his hand dangling and banging lightly off of the yellow painted metal struts. Something had been very wrong and that look had been a searching one.  
   
Ash felt like he'd missed something, and that hand haunted him.  
   
\--  
   
The day after Gary Oak had attempted to kill himself was strange. Ash was awake long before his mother came in to wake him, and even SHE was strange to him. She sat on his bed and asked if he was all right, and he couldn't remember when she'd started to look so tired. It struck him that she was probably always like this; she was a single parent raising a rowdy teenage boy. He noticed every stitch in the fabric of her worn blouse, every small fold that rippled when she shifted and talked about - what was she talking about? - Gary...yes. Because he was Gary's neighbor after all, and they had been friends as kids.  
   
She was talking about how she remembered how well they used to play together. He remembered that, too. How the grass smelled when the pair of them ran around, how bandages felt when you pulled them off in one go, how weird and nasally Gary's laugh was. Then his mother was talking about how the boy was probably going through a hard time, and Ash thought about that, too, sitting in his pajamas. He couldn't remember how he had ended up scooting to the edge to sit close to his mom. But he remembered the jeers, remembered seeing two big guys from the football team yanking Gary Oak up by one of his arms and slamming him to the cracked pavement behind the bleachers. How his books had scattered in the grass as his open backpack was all but tossed to the side. How Gary snarled and tried to squirm away and then how he yelped when the one not holding him down punched him so hard in the stomach it made Ash's hurt. He remembered lingering by the ticket building, where he'd gone to retrieve a ball one of the batters hit too far, and how the cracked paint of the tacky school colors on the brick felt under one of his hands. He remembered how much Gary kept struggling to get away, how the boy refused to make another noise and ultimately how he solemnly gathered up his books from the dew-wet grass once both boys wandered away.  
   
He wanted to tell her that. The words stuck in his chest, though, and he just listened to his mother as she shakily rambled on about how she couldn't believe such a good boy would want to end it all. She'd always liked Gary, Ash recalled, it was probably a shock to her. So he let her talk, and finally leaned into her when she put an arm around his shoulders. It was more for her comfort then his, Ash told himself, but couldn't help but want to throw up when he thought of finally leaving that hiding spot by the stupidly painted ticket booth long after Gary had limped away.  
   
 Ash didn't tell his mother, but despite all the torment he knew the boy went through on a day to day basis, he agreed with her: he didn't understand why someone would want to kill themselves. Even somebody like Gary, who got beat up behind the bleachers one day and who didn't have anyone come to help him.

 

He didn't get it at all, and didn't like how his mother looked tired and he hadn't noticed, and he didn't want to keep picturing five limp digits and a clammy palm getting dinged off the side of a stretcher.

 

\--

 

Any routine Ash had had before that day in November was distinctly absent the day after. Normally, he'd whine to not get out of bed, finally rush through a shower and grab breakfast before hopping on the bus. The bus had to be about twenty years old and sounded like it was going to explode each time it shifted gears. He would eat his pilfered food towards the back, slouched in a seat with his knees pressed against the back of the seat in front of him. A couple stops down, Ritchie, the catcher and third batter for their team, would bounce on with his own breakfast and they'd sit together, cackling and guffawing over nothing until breakfast was gone. They'd sit up and poke the people in front of them. Usually this was May Maple and her boyfriend Drew (no one knew his last name, it wasn't even listed on any of the roll rosters for his classes) who would stop sucking face and turn to talk. Ash knew Gary got on at his stop, silent and maybe browsing something on his phone - always a brand new model, the bastard - and sat in the front most seat on the passenger side. They never spoke in the morning, not once.

 

The day after Ash saw the limp, real hand being raced away, he was painfully aware of how alone he was at his section of broken concrete. He turned and looked back at the house next door and saw the little economic car his teacher drove wasn't there. The outside lights were on, but none of the windows had lamps glowing within. No one was home. It was almost normal. Almost. But there was no Gary to block his view of the house today. He knew that Mr. Oak wouldn't be in his lab today. He would be in another bleached environment, waiting, maybe looking a bit sleepless.

 

It occurred to Ash when his bus rolled up that he hadn't thought to bring food for the ride, and found he didn't care, for once. The sense of 'real' hit him when he found he wasn't thinking of the old bus's backfiring as amusing today. He could see every stain on the interior, noticed his bus driver for the first time all year, wondered if the same person had driven the bus the year before. Passing Gary's empty usual seat made him swallow thickly, and he didn't know why. His own usual seat was uncomfortable, and he sat leaned against the window like a wet noodle, watching his and the Oaks' homes start to move backwards as the ancient bus rolled forward.

 

With no toast or fruit to occupy his hands and his concentration, he thought back on the conversation (the babbling of his mother, really) from that morning in his bedroom. She'd said something about how Gary was having a rough time. She couldn't have known about the bullying, couldn't have known about the mass shunning most of the tenth graders gave to Gary. It meant at home, maybe, and Ash realized he didn't know anything about how Gary and his teacher coincided and lived with one another. They were relatives, yes -- grandfather and grandson. Ash couldn't remember why Gary lived with the man, at first, and had to pick his tired and emotionally exhausted brain for the answer.

 

What came back was a memory of the pair of them playing as small children, maybe seven or so. Ash had asked the question, phrased as: "Why d'you live with y'r grampa?"

 

And Gary had replied, with brief hesitation: "My parents wanted me to."

 

Ash had not asked for him to elaborate; his mother had called them in for lunch and the conversation had been forgotten. He'd never inquired further in the years he'd known Gary Oak why it was his parents wanted him to live with his grandfather and not them. He wondered about that now, on the rickety bus, and was so deeply involved with his thoughts that he jumped when Ritchie's bag thumped down next to him.

 

"Hey." Was all the auburn-haired boy said, sitting next to him. Ash noticed that Ritchie also didn't have food, which made his stomach growl angrily at him for forgetting his own.

 

"Hey." Came his own reply, and it sounded so fake to him, didn't even sound like his voice. Did he really say that? He felt his mouth move, so he must have. Slightly perturbed by this, he didn't say anything else as the bus started rolling once more.

 

Ritchie fidgeted in his seat. He had his feet on the floor, something else out of the ordinary, and Ash knew what he wanted to talk about before he just blurted it out. "...Why?"

 

The dark-haired boy sighed, pressing his cheek to the dirty window. There had been a fly smashed just in front of his nose right there on the glass, he vaguely noticed. "...I dunno."

 

This was apparently not a good enough answer, because Ritchie was looking at him, now, the look on his face a mixture of panic and grief. "But he...he's sixteen."

 

"Fifteen." Ash replied, boredly, "His birthday's next week."

 

When he saw his friend's reflection staring shocked at him through the bus window, he grumbled and sat up straight, leering at the other boy. "He's my neighbor, okay? I used to go to his birthday parties."

 

"Oh...right." Ritchie said this weakly, crossing his arms and looking down at his lap. "...Well...that's not much better."

 

"Whaddya want me to say, Ritchie?" Ash shot back, bordering between irritable and exhausted, "I didn't know he was going to try and kill himself, okay?"

 

"I didn't say you did."

 

"Yeah, well..." The dark-haired boy shifted in his seat moodily, "...you sounded like you did."

 

They were quiet for some time afterwards, at least a couple more stops. It was the first time he could remember fighting with the easy going Ritchie at all, and he felt terrible for it.

 

"...I'm sorry."

 

"It's okay." The catcher was picking at his pants...green cargoes, the kind of green that surgeons in hospitals wore, Ash noted. "We didn't really KNOW him..."

 

"Gary doesn't really have friends, does he?"

 

Both boys peered up. Over the back of the seat in front of them was a brunette girl staring down at them, her arms folded on the top right next to a patch of brown colored tape. It was the first time May Maple had turned to converse with them, first, and her boyfriend with his punkishly-dyed green hair appeared over the seat next to her right after.

 

"I mean...do you guys ever see him talk to anybody?" The girl went on, quietly. "Nobody ever sits with him on the bus and nobody ever sees him in the cafeteria for lunch..."

 

"He doesn't eat lunch." Drew told her, lounging on the back of his seat boredly. Ash felt a twinge of detest for the boy and the way he didn't seem to care about anything, but brushed it away once the words caught up to him.

 

The thought of not having food all day bothered him immensely, and his stomach gurgled again. "Whaddya mean he doesn't eat lunch?"

 

"He doesn't. I pull library duty during the Sec One lunch, which is his. He always comes wandering through and works on homework in the back corner, back where the historical fiction is. I can tell you, for a fact, that the kid doesn't eat lunch." Drew smirked, and the feeling of dislike swam in Ash's chest once again.

 

"Well...you remembered what happened last year in October right?" Ritchie added, and seemed to recoil when their eyes all turned to him. "...Didn't..didn't a few guys keep hounding him or something? I dunno, I just remember Birch talking to him at the end of the month about not being able to keep him in his classroom for lunch anymore."

 

May huffed, twirling a piece of her long bangs around her finger. She was considered rather pretty amongst the boys in the locker room, and there were a lot of cracks made about her rather large breasts. On the bus that morning, though, Ash thought she looked a little cheap. She was wearing make-up that was slightly caked on in places and smeared almost unnoticeable in others, probably from macking on her stupid pretentious boyfriend. She also had a zit right on the center of her chin that was distracting him from their conversation. He had the brief urge to scream at her to get rid of the nasty fucking thing, but it passed when she opened her mouth to speak. She'd had braces at some point, from the look of her teeth, but Ash couldn't remember a time where she had. "It's kinda creepy. We have to go back there and sit in class right next to where somebody tried to kill themselves, y'know?"

 

"He didn't die." Ash heard himself snapping, causing her to frown at him. "It's not haunted or anything. You sound like you're more worried about yourself then the fact some kid was fucking miserable enough to try suiciding in a nasty bathroom at school."

 

All three of them were looking right at him. He knew why they were, but didn't know why he'd said the things he had. It was true, he realized a split second later: what he'd said was true. May was a fake bitch who was more worried about how things impacted HER life then the people actually in the line of fire. She was no more real then her stupid fucking boyfriend who didn't give his last name, who everyone thought was either in witness protection or secretly a movie star or something else equally retarded. Ash didn't usually say what he did with the seriousness he had, and he didn't use the word 'fuck' on a daily basis, either. The three other teenagers were looking at him like he had three heads, and all Ash could think was 'Yeah, that's right, but they're the realest three heads you ever saw'.

 

May looked shell shocked, her hand frozen near her hair (she had split ends, Ash noticed) as she gaped. "I...that's not true...!" She sounded like an angry bird, even sort of puffed up like one, "What the hell, Ash...?!"

 

"Shut up." He spat back, and this time Drew frowned. Ash imagined that the prissy fuck wanted to deck him, and inwardly laughed at the notion. "We're all talking about him like he's dead. He's not. He screwed it up and somebody found him before he completely keeled over. Somebody seriously thought the only way out was to kill themselves, and we're sitting here talking about how nobody fucking liked him enough and how terrible we feel. We didn't exactly help. Can we drop it?"

 

When Ash finally finished talking, he became too aware of the fact that the whole bus was silent. People had been listening to him. Glancing up at the mirror that hung over the bus driver's head caught a small movement, enough to prove that the driver had been eavesdropping as well. Drew very much looked like he wanted to climb over the seat and beat the shit out of Ash, and Ash couldn't care less. The green-haired boy grabbed May's shoulder and turned her around, so that both of them were facing the front again. That signified the end of the conversation, and noises from other bus passengers came back up in volume.

 

"...Ash?"

 

"What?" He closed his eyes, swallowing, before trying again in a softer tone: "What, Ritchie...?"

 

"...Nothing...um...sorry." Ritchie sank back into the seat beside Ash, and the dark-haired boy felt a niggling shred of guilt.

 

"S'okay. Om tired, y'know...?"

 

"Me too."

 

They didn't speak the rest of the bus ride.

 

\--

 

People were avoiding Ash for the rest of the day. He didn't know whether he looked like he was not in an approachable mood or if the scene on the bus had spread via mouth to ear. It suited him just fine. He didn't want to talk about Gary, and that was all anyone wanted to talk about. He wanted to get through the day without having to think over and over again about that fucking hand flopped over the side of the stretcher like the owner of it was actually dead.

 

Mr. Oak, as expected, was not teaching his classes that day. The substitute was a teacher's aide, Tracey Sketchit, who had graduated a year or so before and was currently in college. He was a friend of Ash's and lived with the Oaks - something about his family living in another country. Ash almost felt bad for him. The poor guy was swamped with questions, further irritating the dark-haired boy who wanted to just get the whole day over with. Tracey didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to say anything in regards to the boy who was apparently in ICU over at the hospital half an hour away.

 

"Look, it's just not my business, that's a family matter," He finally cried, exasperated at being interrupted for the fifteenth time, "and frankly I don't see what the morbid fascination's about. Leave the poor kid alone." Ash's respect for the man soared in that moment, and miraculously the rest of the class stopped asking questions about the Oaks.

 

Lunch was relatively normal. For the first ten minutes, he even let himself fall into chatter about stupid, nonsensical bullshit that he was used to every day. Nobody mentioned Gary Oak or his pill martini until Ash was halfway through a fish sandwich, at which point his stomach revolted and wouldn't let him eat for the next couple minutes. He discretely didn't say a word while his teammates and other friends talked in hushed whispers about his neighbor.

 

"I heard he was dating some guy and they broke up, that's probably why." One of them whispered to his right.

 

"Dude, people called him 'fag' just to piss him off, there's no way he was fucking some guy. I heard he got a 'D' on a test or something, isn't that kid super smart?"

 

A girl to Ash's left - Dawn Berlitz again, the girl who had screamed the day before about the body in the bathroom being 'dead as a fucking doornail' - leaned over slightly to the right to give her imput. "That's stupid, nobody with any sense would do THAT over a grade."

 

"The guy tried to kill himself in a crowded school. If you ask me, that just PROVES the guy had no sense." That was Trip, the infielder, someone who Ash knocked heads with a lot. He was angry upon hearing those words, but not as angry as when some of the others agreed, even LAUGHED at them.

 

"Ash?"

 

Just like that, eyes were turning down the table to land on him. Someone was touching his hand - he had apparently clenched it into a fist, and the plastic silverware inside had snapped in two. His eyes traveled up, ignoring those of his staring peers, and found cool blue. Misty Waterflower was just as water-oriented as her name; star of the swim team, lifeguard in the summer. She was at home in the water. He joked that she was some kind of mermaid, something that she punched his shoulder over a lot. She was a gorgeous girl, the kind a guy like him should have been taking to Homecoming. Instead, while rumors flew around of the two of them sneaking off to grope and make out with one another, he was heading back to her place so she could kick his ass at Mortal Kombat or Call of Duty. You didn't get better friends then Misty...except perhaps Brock, but he wasn't lucky enough to have both of his best friends in the same lunch period as he was. It was Misty who had her hand on his clenched fist, her blue eyes swimming with concern and a touch of confusion.

 

People were waiting for his reaction, wanted to know why she was using THAT tone with him, why his fork was shorter and laying dejectedly on the table. He almost took a breath, calmed down, and smiled, until someone else down the table piped up:

 

"Don't be the next basket case, Ketchum. Would be a shame if we were cleaning our pitcher up off the bathroom floor next."

 

There was laughter. It bled into other noise in the crowded lunch room. Ash didn't know he'd thrown his tray down the table until he saw he'd coated the speaker, Paul, in fish sandwich, string beans, and the remnants of a bag of chips. There were flecks of all his food on his various other friends, but he found he didn't care a bit. They were lucky it hadn't been them. Paul looked angry, as usual, but there was brief part in his lips from shock instead of the immediate scathing remark he'd likely been about to make. The lunch room was going silent, just like it had on the bus, like everyone there was waiting for Ash to talk.

 

He pointed accusingly at the boy covered in his lunch. "You think that's funny? HUH?! What's it matter to YOU that he was fucking miserable and tried to kill himself?! Long as you can make a JOKE about it! Are you SICK?!"

 

"What the actual FUCK is your malfunction, Ketchum?" Paul growled, angrily tearing off his jacket.

 

"My 'malfunction' is your sense of humor!"

 

The lavender-haired - who the hell had LAVENDER colored hair?! - male curled his lip up in a snarl. "Don't act like a saint. You didn't give a shit about him, either. If you're going to stand there and act innocent over it, you're a terrible actor." He took napkins wordlessly handed to him by Trip, drying off his hair. "Why are you getting so hot under the collar, Ketchum? Got something you want to share?"

 

"FUCK you Paul." That was the fourth time he'd used the word in one day, four more times then he'd used it in the past month or two alone. "So what if I didn't talk to him or anything? How's that make it okay to joke about what happened? You feel good about yourself, huh? Do ya? Oh, and while I'm at it, how about the REST of you?! Laughing about it like it's no big deal. What if he DID die, huh? Would you all still be yukking it up? HUH?!" The eyes that were staring at him so intently finally dropped away, guiltily finding interesting patterns in the cheap laminate of the table. A couple girls looked close to tears. Even Paul looked away, eyes giving away defeat. "Exactly. I'm tired of hearing about Gary mother-fucking Oak, because all I keep hearing is the fakest crap I've ever heard. People who didn't care about beating the shit out of him before all upset and wondering why he did it, people who don't have any business discussing his life trying to find the pettiest reason they can for why he did it, trying to make it just a huge joke. THAT GUY WAS FUCKING DEAD AT SOME POINT YESTERDAY AND NOBODY WANTS TO TAKE IT SERIOUSLY!"

 

"Ash..." That was Misty again, but this time she was at his side, hands with a tight grip on his arm. He was familiar with this grip. The girl had used it before, when he was getting in another team's face, or when she was angry with him. Maybe she was a little of both right then. "Come on. Pool." But he didn't want to leave. He stood his ground, internally daring the rest of them with his posture alone to try to defend themselves. "Quit it, Ash, just leave it and come to the pool."

 

He glared at her, and she glared back. He wished he loved her the way people said he did, she was the only girl who could put up with him and who could go toe-to-toe with anyone more then double her size. When she didn't waver, he shook his head, picking up his back-pack from beside his seat. No one said a word as he did. Nobody would look at him. He didn't want them to. His rant was flawed, the biggest of which was the fact that he also hadn't given a second thought to Gary Oak before his suicide attempt the day before, but he didn't want to face that. He just wanted the fakeness to stop. As he walked away with Misty, he waited for them to resume their chatter, but they didn't.

 

Ash was not a saint or a martyr by any means, but he was beginning to see the cracks in the picture of 'fake' everyone was a part of here. He could see through the first crack, wide enough to see a pale white hand hanging limply in the black, framed by yellow bars.

 

\--

 

 The pool was Misty's domain. She was here in her free time even after her swim practices were over, either life guarding for free swims for the local community or giving lessons to younger swimmers. Ash liked to tease her about if she ever went home at the end of the day, or if she turned into a fish at night and swam in the pool when the lights were out.

 

She wasn't swimming that day. Both of them were seated in the concrete, raised bleachers overlooking the water. The gym class that day wasn't using the pool, so aside from the occasional peek in from one of the two gym teachers, they were alone.

 

Ash was focused on the water. Even that was fake, really. It was chlorinated to hell and back, would turn your hair green if you didn't wash it out. It was treated to look pretty and to stay unnaturally clean. He wondered if Misty ever thought about that.

 

"...You're really upset about it."

 

It wasn't a question. Ash rubbed at his face, frowning when the brightness of the fake water made his eyes sting a little. "Yeah." Was all he told her.

 

He heard her sigh beside him, and finally peered in her direction. Misty wasn't like May; her frowning face didn't have a ton of make-up to hide the freckles that decorated her nose and cheeks. She had a little bit of eyeliner and mascara on, enough to show she had eyelashes - her red hair made the rest of her body hair very very hard to see - and what looked like chap-stick. Misty didn't try to cover up what she was. He figured she was a real person, and almost laughed at how stupid that sounded.

 

"Sorry. About the yelling." His eyes shifted back to the pool, and he felt his brow furrow again. Fake water, but not a fake friend. Huh.

 

"I think they sort of deserved it. You were right." Misty's voice was soft, but carried a small bit of bite, which became more pronounced when she added on: "You yelling and cussing about it was stupid, though."

 

This time, Ash did laugh, and he knew she was probably smiling when he did. She always said his laugh was goofy. When he turned his head, she was indeed struggling to hide a smile. It was gone in a second, replaced by her concerned stare. It made him feel like she was looking into the recesses of his mind. Maybe should could see the stretcher and the hand...

 

He had to look away, back to the alien blue instead of the very real blue of her eyes. "Yeah. It was." The murmur was faint as it fell from his lips.

 

Beside him, Ash felt the girl shift closer, felt her gently nudge him in the ribs. "Talk, Ash. I'm not holding a conversation with a semi-sentient wall."

 

A heavy breath he didn't know he'd been holding burst from behind his lips, and he hung his head. "It's just..." A swallow, a brush of tongue against his lips as he struggled for words. Funny, he hadn't had that problem before, confronting the table full of (fake) kids. "...He did die, just for a little bit. That's what he wanted. I don't get WHY. And...and everyone else is just...trying to PRETEND it's something less than what it is. All the laughing and stupid jokes about it like they're trying to make it less of a big deal. It is a big deal. You...you get that, right?"

 

There was a pause, and he was afraid she'd say no, no she didn't get that, don't be retarded Ash. Instead, he felt her soft hand on his back - why didn't he love her? - and she didn't say anything at first. Her silent comfort was more then welcome.

 

"...It is a big deal." Misty finally replied. "I think...maybe this is how people are coping. A lot of us haven't had to deal with something like this, Ash, and people deal with things different ways. They probably just want it all to be normal again."

 

"But it isn't normal." He looked up again, torn between an angry frown and exasperation. "People don't decide to just kill themselves and call it 'normal'. Or...maybe they do. But then that's the problem. This whole...THIS," His hands flailed out to indicate the school in general, "THIS is the problem. It's a huge issue, because we're all thinking that THIS is normal and something like yesterday isn't. Like that can't be real. But none of this is...you know, truthful? Real? I don't know. It feels fake. And I feel like I'm just getting that."

 

"You're growing up." Came her matter-of-fact reply, hand still on his back and rubbing circles into the back of his tee shirt. "God help us all; you're growing up faster then any of us, must be a sign of the Rapture or whatever. But...yeah...that's how reality is. It doesn't mean the world's not good in places, but it's not all happy sappy bull-crap either." Ash only gave her a small nod, eyes hitting the concrete under his trainers again. "...What else, Ash?"

 

Ash hesitated. She'd been so good so far, and he knew it wasn't fair to ask her. Still, when he lifted his head and stared at her, he asked: "...Why would he do that? Why would he...?"

 

The red-head bit her bottom lip, shifting uncomfortably. She'd never been mean to Gary, not that Ash could recall, but he could still see the guilt hiding in her eyes. Neither of them had lifted a finger to talk to him. Maybe Misty had seen him get beat up behind the bleachers one day and hadn't done anything but hide behind the ticket building. Ash didn't know. But what counted was that she felt the same way he did about it all.

 

"I dunno." She finally spoke, releasing her worried lip from between her teeth. Her fingers curled in the back of his shirt, and he slid his own arm over her shoulders. "...I really don't know. But he must've been sad. That's the only reason anyone does, right?"

 

"About what, though?" Ash asked.

 

"I don't know, Ash. I really don't."

 

The guilt was evident in both of their voices. The warning bell rang five minutes later, but neither had said another word.

 

It was only when he was holding open the door to the hall beyond the gym that he spoke up again.

 

"...Why pills...?"

 

Misty hesitated, fingers clutching the strap of her backpack tighter. It was a little drawstring bag with the swim team's name on it and the school motto. "...I've heard it makes you sleep before you...die. Maybe he just didn't want it to hurt."

 

As they passed the rows of lockers, Ash thought maybe she was right. Gary was smart, he'd know which method would be best for that sort of thing...and maybe he just didn't want ANYTHING to hurt anymore.

 

But why?

 

\--

 

 By the end of the day, people were whispering behind their hands when he walked past. His outbursts on the bus and in the cafeteria were apparently enough to get rumors started. It sucked, even more so when he figured out that the student body was trying to make a lot more out of it then he'd intended. Nobody was stupid enough to say it out loud, though, so thankfully he kept the number of times he'd exploded down to two.

 

Eight block was his free period. Occasionally, he'd be outside with the team, and once or twice he'd actually used the period to get some homework done during that time. Usually, however, he'd be in the culinary department. It's where his bag thumped down before the late bell rang, that day.

 

The culinary arts department was a dining room, made to resemble and be used like a restaurant, though only accessible to teachers and the student council. The other half of the department was a giant kitchen with a classroom. Today, the dining area was empty, for which Ash was grateful. He sank down into a padded chair at a table in the corner, which wasn't laden with place-mats like the other tables, and put his head down.

 

It didn't take long for him to hear the sound of a swinging door, followed by muffled footsteps on the carpet. The chair next to him scrapped across the fibers next, followed by a much heavier body dropping down into it.

 

"If you didn't stick your head in the kitchen, I know something's up." The voice was deeper and had an almost fatherly sort of tone in it. "And maybe Misty told me you were acting out of sorts today."

 

Ash turned his head to the side, finally able to see the boy next to him. Brock Harrison was a senior this year, and easily was neck-and-neck to be the head of the culinary class. Nobody would've guessed his talents lay in cooking: Brock was tall, muscular, and on a regular outing people tended to step maybe a few extra feet around him. He DID look a bit intimidating, at first, until one discovered he was a damn good chef and that his skills in household work were almost as good. He was also girl-crazy, and had the record for being turned down the most times of any poor sap in the entire four years he'd been attending. Ash considered him one of his two best friends, and wouldn't have had it any other way.

 

At the moment, the much taller male was sitting with his arms crossed and staring down at the mopey blob that was Ash Ketchum. Said Ash blinked, then half-smirked, reaching over to lightly grasp the fabric slung around Brock's neck. "Last to the apron rack again, huh? The pink really DOES suit you."

 

Brock scowled, knocking the boy's hand away. "I've told you, I don't fight over something like an apron."

 

"It's covered in cartoon cupcakes, Brock."

 

"It'll be covered in bits of your face in a minute. Stop changing the subject." His friend's voice was stern, not unlike the one Ash heard him use with his multitude of brothers and sisters. In a much softer tone, the older boy went on: "What's the matter?"

 

Ash huffed, resisting the urge to bury his face back into his arms. "Everything. Half of it I kinda put my own foot in...I guess you heard about the whole lunch thing."

 

"To be fair, majority rules in your favor on that one, from what I've heard around the halls." Brock smirked, "Too bad it wasn't nacho day."

 

Ash smirked back, the image of Paul covered in chili, cheese, and re-fried beans lightening his mood just a little. "He's a dick."

 

"Okay, now I know you're sick."

 

"Ugh..." This time, Ash did turn his face back down to the table, not caring if his friend had trouble hearing him because of it or not. "I'm mad, okay? I'm mad and the whole thing's just...sucky."

 

"Mm. Like I said, student body seems to be on your side, for the most part."

 

"I don't care about them!" Ash sat up straight, leaning all the way back in his chair and sliding down. "How am I supposed to care about what they think, now? I mean, really? I think today I finally realized just how stupid the rumor mill is. Paul DID deserve that, but I wish I could've thrown a tray at every single one of them." A pause, "...Well...except Misty."

 

He didn't get angry when Brock chuckled, and the chuckling didn't last long, anyway. "I seriously don't know why you won't date her--"

 

"I'm not explaining it again." Ash warned.

 

His friend held up his hands in mock surrender, still half-smiling. When his hands dropped, though, so did his grin. "How are you holding up?"

 

In a split second, Ash's mouth went dry. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, crossing his arms loosely. It was literally impossible to lie to Brock; him having so many younger siblings made it easy for him to catch each and every fib someone told. Briefly, Ash debated on doing it anyway before he gave in, deflating a little. "Not too good."

 

He told him everything he'd talked about with Misty and some things he hadn't. The conversation with his mother, the one with May, Drew, and Ritchie. About what he said word for word in the cafeteria that none of his friends had looked him in the face afterwards for. He choked, thinking of the hand he'd seen, and Brock caught it.

 

"He was dead, Brock...it was just a little bit, but he was...and he wasn't dead right then but it looked that way. There were a ton of other people in that hallway who saw the same thing. Why's it only me who gives a--" He caught himself, biting his tongue, "...who cares?"

 

"It's not that everyone else doesn't care..." Brock replied, quietly, glancing over at the kitchen doors briefly. "It's that they're handling it differently then you are. I think out of all of us, you're the only one who sort of...knows Gary."

 

"Yeah, by like this much," Ash deadpanned, holding his thumb and pointer finger less than an inch apart from each other. "And why's that matter?! They still shouldn't be cracking JOKES about a kid nearly dying."

 

"No, they shouldn't." His friend agreed. "Might also be a way of coping. Nobody really gave him the time of day...I'm sure a lot of us feel guilty about that, so you've got folks trying to paint it in a way that puts less blame on themselves." When Ash seemed nonplussed by this, Brock sighed and shook his head, "All right, so maybe I don't know what they're all thinking. Still, don't be too quick to judge. I'm pretty sure a couple of your other friends want to apologize to you, in any case, and it sounds like Ritchie was pretty upset that he might've set you off, earlier."

 

 The reminder of how he'd snapped at his friend on the bus made Ash wince in embarrassment. "Ritchie didn't do anything wrong...he's actually been pretty good about it all, compared to everyone else. I think the only people who kinda...get it...are you and Misty. But he's close." His eyes traveled up to the ceiling: the white panels were dusty from years and years worth of not being cleaned, and he wondered how people ate in the dining room with THAT over their heads. "...I dunno, Brock...It makes me want to scream and throw-up and...and I don't really get why. We weren't friends. I mean, he used to talk about me behind my back and all kinds of things when we were in middle school, I was WAY more then cool when it started happening to him. I don't get why this changes it. I feel guilty, man..."

 

Once he'd said it, it sunk down in his chest like an ice cold pit of some sort. Brock was watching him carefully, in that stern, examining sort of way a parent would. A large hand, dotted with flour, finally reached up and squeezed Ash's shoulder. "...I don't know what to tell you. I don't know what exactly you're feeling about the whole thing. But you know you can keep talking, if you need to." The pair of them grinned at once, Ash nodding first and Brock mirroring the gesture right after. "I'll get you something to munch on, sit tight. I think Cilan's going to explode if he can't come out and talk to you."

 

When the bigger boy moved away, finally, Ash caught a glimpse of a face in the small window of the door leading to the kitchen. When the door opened, he saw both Brock and the other person speak in low voices before they switched sides of the door.

 

Cilan was a year below Brock, which was a good thing: if he'd been a senior, there'd be no doubt who the top of the Culinary program would be for the year. He was raised and breathed fine dining, to the point where he and his brothers took on higher duties then some other staff at the restaurant their family owned. He was flamboyant but, oddly, Ash didn't think he'd seen CILAN get beat up. Called a 'fag', yes, but Cilan didn't seem to care much. It was probably because Cilan WAS gay, and he just did nothing to hide it. it was a simple fact of life: the sky was blue, water was wet, and Cilan was gay.

 

"Mon _amiiiiii_..." The green-haired (the hell was with people wanting to dye their hair green?) boy sat daintily in the chair Brock had vacated, looking concerned, "You've been in a state. You're half the talk I've heard today."

 

"I know. Apparently a guy's not allowed to flip out once in a while." Ash tried to joke. "Here to fuel the fires?"

 

His friend huffed in a haughty fashion, pressing his hand to his chest in a mock-offended gesture. "What do you take me for, some sort of gossip monger? Perish the thought!" Once he'd successfully gotten a laugh out of the boy, though, his smile returned. "Non. Although I did come to ask and spread around if you were all right or not. There's a few people who are rather worried, you know."

 

"I don't know. That's what you're going to have to settle for, because I honestly don't have a clue." Dark-colored brows furrowed together, thoughts pressing to pick out something he'd heard earlier. Glancing at his wary friend brought it back, almost with an audible snap of the fingers. "Hey, Cilan. Can I ask you something? You hear everything that goes on here...and you're...um..."

 

When Ash fumbled for words, looking embarrassed once again, Cilan quirked a brow. "I believe the term in your sport would be 'batting for the same team', no? And yes, that would be correct. Might I ask why you're showing a sudden interest?"

 

"Well...earlier, someone said that people called Gary f-..."

 

"...You're not going to offend me, you know."

 

The boy let out a breath, still blushing when he continued. "...They called him 'fag'. But I heard that they only did it because it ticked him off. Do you know if that's true? Him being gay?"

 

"Hmm..." Cilan put a finger to his cheek, leaning on the table. He was rather dainty and graceful in some ways; Ash didn't get why Cilan stayed in the safe zone when it came to accusations about being queer, but Gary somehow didn't. "...I honestly can't recall if I ever heard confirmation on being or not. I'm sorry. Why do you ask, though?"

 

"...No reason." Ash mumbled, rolling his shoulder and peering back at the other male. "Thank you. You won't go back and tell everyone about this, right?"

 

"Your image of me as a busy-body is duly noted." The taller boy snarked in return, but he patted Ash's cheek lightly. "But rest assured, I do not tattle on friends. Brock's told me he's going to bring you something to eat, so I'm out of a job for the moment. The same goes with me, though: you know you have some of us to confide in, should you require it." With a wink, he got up from his chair. "Oh, and if you're curious about the OTHER thing..."

 

"No thank you, I did that whole dance with you already, thanks." He couldn't help but laugh with Cilan as he watched the green-haired boy walk back to the kitchens. It was true: Cilan had apparently been comfortable with admitting his attraction to Ash late last year. It was still between the two of them, and Ash was mainly glad they had remained friends despite rejecting Cilan's feelings. As much as Cilan enjoyed talking about what he'd heard in various places, there were things he could keep to himself, and it was those things that counted.

 

And, he thought as Brock came back with a steaming plate of food, it was good to have friends who cared that much.

 

\--

 

Between the end bell for eight block and team practice out on the field, Ash had gotten a few scattered apologies. One was from a very upset Dawn Berlitz, who was convinced he didn't want to be friends with her anymore and was overjoyed when he still did. Trip and Paul weren't speaking to him during practice, which was fine with Ash. He had other things to concentrate on by that point that didn't involve the pouting in-fielders. In the grand scheme of things, practice was the most normal part of that day, even if his pitch was just a hair behind what it usually was. Coach didn't yell at him for it, at least. By the time he was tromping with the rest of the team to the locker room to wash up and head home, Ash almost felt better.

 

His good mood lasted on the bus home. Ritchie discussed their game the next Friday and the team they'd be playing against. With no May Maple or Drew to turn around, Ash honestly enjoyed the ride home.

 

Up until he stepped out onto the sidewalk and saw his teacher's car in the driveway next door.

 

The bus was rattling away, and he knew it must have looked odd for him to be standing there for so long. Still, he couldn't bring himself to move. Mr. Oak was home. Did that mean Gary was, too?

 

He caught his feet moving closer to the other house instead of his own and stopped dead.

 

"...What the actual FUCK am I doing...?" He questioned, softly, almost horrified. He wanted to turn, make an about face, and go to his own front door where his mother would have dinner started. The thought of food made his mouth water, but his feet wouldn't move. Once again, his eyes panned over to the Oak's home. Some of the lights were on...but he could see no figures.

 

A small bark startled him out of his thoughts. At the fence beside the Oak's garage was a big, fluffy German Shepard, tail standing straight up. Its fur was mottled...as a puppy, it had had mostly brown fur, but now most of it was plastered in coarse, black fur. The dog was regarding Ash with eerie familiarity and curiosity.

 

"...Hey Bree." He called, cautiously. The dog, in return, sat at the fence, tail now sweeping leaves from the ground as it moved side to side. He smiled, briefly. Bree was Gary's dog, and he remembered how much his friend had fought to keep her. The memory made the smile on his face slip a few notches. He remembered them finding the puppy and how Gary had insisted on taking it home, how he'd begged his grandfather, with Ash's help, to keep the dog. They had been ten...Bree was five, maybe six now if Ash did his math right. He rarely ever saw her at the fence. As a puppy, that was when he knew she'd been bad. She would sit at the fence, hoping Ash would come by and reach through to pet her.

 

"She's lonely, stupid as that sounds. Big attention hog." An eleven-year old Gary had told him one day. They were both leaning on opposite sides of the fence, Bree off chasing butterflies and stray leaves. "When she gets put outside for being bad, she knows she can leech affection off of you. Cheating out of her punishment."

 

Bree was looking at him so intensely. He heard her whine, now, fifteen years old and no Gary leaning on the fence. Bree was waiting for him to pet her, because nobody had been home since yesterday and she was lonely. She missed Gary, he realized, who he would see walking her down the block from time to time, giving her baths in the yard when it was warm, tossing toys for her to fetch. Gary, who would let her tackle him onto his back and lick all over his face while he laughed. Those were the only times Ash'd ever seen him laugh, the past couple years. The way the auburn-haired boy would let the big dog lay across his lap when he was outside reading in a deck chair, lightly rubbing her behind the ears...all of those things proved without a doubt that he cared very much for his dog.

 

The fact Bree was whining at Ash as he entered the house told him that she missed Gary, and he had to leave her there before he began to think of what she'd be like if Gary never came home.

 

\--

 

The ceiling wasn't dirty in his bedroom. Huh.

 

The end of the day, the day after Gary Oak tried and failed to kill himself, found Ash Ketchum laying like a giant starfish on his bed. He was haphazardly dressed in a tee-shirt and flannel bottoms, stretched over top of his comforter where he'd flopped right after completing his homework. He was cold, but felt too lazy to get under the covers. He knew he should: the cold was keeping him awake and focused on topics he didn't want to keep thinking about. If he was warmer, he'd sleep, and then--

 

...Then what? That hand would return, probably, and Ash frowned up at the clean ceiling. His mother probably kept it like that, doing it while he was at school. He should really start doing more around the house for her...she had it rough.

 

With a frustrated sigh, he finally flailed himself under the comforter, glaring at the wall next to his bed. Why was he noticing all these things? To distract himself, probably, but he didn't want to admit that.

 

Ash wanted to sit up and look across the way, to where he knew Gary Oak's bedroom was. The lights would be dark, he knew, because he'd been staring at it off and on while attempting to do his English paper. Sometimes, in the past, he'd caught his neighbor working at his own desk. The curtains were usually closed, but his silhouette was there, spiky hair and all. For whatever reason, Ash never seemed to see him doing much else in that room. He didn't change near the window, in any case, and Ash frowned even harder, wondering why THAT had come to mind.

 

His train of thought shifted. What if it hadn't happened at school? Would he have seen the inner struggle from his bedroom window? Maybe Gary would pace back and forth, wondering if he should or shouldn't do it. Then the shadow against the curtains would throw its hands up and decide, yes, it needed to end. Then what? Would he still go with pills? Maybe hang himself from the ceiling fan that Ash knew had a little wooden pull cord with stickers on it from when they were little? Then would he see that, see Mr. Oak rush in and try to take him down, would he hear the screaming and--

 

Ash shut his eyes tightly, biting his lip, torn between screaming and crying. He could feel tears building up at the corners of his eyes.

 

The world was not the way he thought it was, and he blamed himself for not realizing that before it was too late.


	2. Hollow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walk a mile in someone else's shoes, alongside their dog. Make decisions on the fly. Hope for the best. Realize that not only was the world not what it appeared, but that you don't know anyone in it. What's the real picture?

 

Ash couldn't remember much of Thursday. Considering how things had gone the day before, he chalked that up as a win on his part. His mother hadn't been informed of his outbursts, so there was no confrontation to be had. Yet.

 

Mr. Oak's tiny car was no longer in the driveway by the time he made his way out the door. Once again, he found himself staring at the dark house, and this time noticed one face looking back. Gary's attention-hungry dog was sitting in the living room, her head pushed through the curtains to stare at the boy out at the bus stop. She was probably whining. The staring contest made him increasingly uncomfortable until he looked away. As he bounced his catcher's mitt against his other palm, he wondered why he felt guilty just looking at Bree. The bus roared up in front of him, and for most of the day he forgot about her, mind swimming in a fog.

 

It was a stark contrast compared to Wednesday. Instead of noticing all the small, insignificant details he never usually looked at, Ash didn't recall noticing much of anything. He barely managed to pay attention in class. He was vaguely aware of people attempting to talk to him, whether they be teachers or friends, but only responded a handful of times. Even Misty and Brock were only able to coax him to say a couple sentences at a time. He didn't put it down to being angry or upset, more just feeling numb. He'd had his freak-out the day before, he'd had his time to be angry, and he'd had a couple moments the night before where he'd felt like he might even cry. He didn't get those emotions and why they so desperately wanted to sit on the surface, out in the open, over the situation. He didn't think he was actively hiding them, either, more of just ignoring the fact that they existed.

 

Around the end of the day, during Eight Block that half of the student body had as a free period, all four grades were ushered into the auditorium. The lights were all on, casting shadows on the fraying cushions in the folding chairs that lined the sloping floor in three cascading columns. The auditorium was barely used, those days, save for important school announcements and the occasional play. A faint, lingering smell of cigarette smoke and nicotine told Ash that it was also used to sneak out of class and hide in the dark, for those bold enough to do so.

 

Chatter flooded the wide room, everyone from freshmen to seniors talking and laughing for the few brief moments before the administrative staff took the stage. A general hush fell over the student body as the aging principal stepped up to the podium that had been wheeled on stage.

 

"...As most of you know, an event happened two days ago in our school building that resulted in the hospitalization of one of your fellow students." He began, gravely voice sounding scratchy from the decade-old microphone in front of his mouth. The man didn't read from a sheaf of notes like the nervous vice-principal did; it was rare the principal ever spoke, even for crucial functions. It was likely both things that subtly commanded the attention of the rowdy four years worth of students. "I know what rumors have been floating around, and I apologize for not addressing them yesterday."

 

"This student did indeed attempt to take his own life. That is the truth. He was suffering from emotional duress at the time, from what I highly suspect was a combination of various factors, the largest of which was bullying. For that, I am disappointed." His voice was soft, and Ash recognized the tone as one his mother used when she said the same thing. The dark-haired boy wasn't the only one squirming in discomfort over it, from what he could see. "I am disappointed that the students of my school feel it necessary to alienate one of their own in a way that involves bullying. I have never, nor have the rest of the staff, condoned this behavior. It pains me to know that some of the children we teach are truly so cold towards one another. I am also deeply saddened by the actions taken by this particular student."

 

"...Suicide is a difficult topic to approach. I assume most of you know what it means. The reasons a person would decide to pursue this option as a means of an end vary from victim to victim. That is truly what this student, and others who choose this route, are: victims. This student was lucky in the fact that he was able to be resuscitated before any permanent damage was done to his body. He will get another chance. I do not need to tell you that that is not always the case, and that the results of what happened on Tuesday could have been much worse."

 

"At this time, the student will not be returning to scheduled classes, as he is recovering in the hospital. Once he is discharged, however, he will be returning to our school. We - the staff and myself -, ask that you respect both his space and his emotional state. We also ask that you keep any and all remarks or questions about the situation to yourselves. Please do not confront the student, nor the teacher related to him, about what has happened. Remind yourselves that this student did not think that he would be returning, and that he will likely not be receptive to interaction for some time."

 

The old man took a breath, steadying himself against the podium. He looked fatigued, and Ash realized the man was quite affected by what had happened to Gary. That was surprising to figure out. "In light of the bullying, I have no choice but to put my foot down. From this point on, I will not tolerate it in any sense. Not only am I disappointed, but angry that this sort of behavior is considered acceptable amongst you all. Those of you caught engaging in hostile behavior towards another student, jokingly or not, will be receiving detention for the first offense. Second offenses and violent physical behavior will result in suspension of the aggressors. Third verbal offenses and second physical confrontations will result in expulsion." The student body immediately began to talk, some outraged at the idea that even jokingly picking on one another could escalate into being expelled. "That is my final say on the matter. I and the staff used to believe we could trust our students to handle discrepancies like adults, but I see that is not the case. We have received word from hospital staff expressing concern over this student having multiple layers of bruising, brought on by what has been determined to be repeated assaults." Silence swept over the teenagers, the man's stern gaze oozing with disdain and disgust. "Anyone with information regarding this appalling behavior is encouraged to talk to the staff. Those responsible for this abhorrent treatment of one of the student body will be expelled immediately. There will be no exceptions. I cannot believe I have to stand up here and say those words. Utterly, completely disappointed."

 

Ash zoned out after that, while the principal went on in softer tones about offering counseling to those affected by the events. He thought back to standing in the shadow of the tacky ticket building, watching two boys he knew kick Gary Oak around like some kind of soccer-ball. His hands gripped the sleeves of his tee-shirt. He knew both of those guys. They weren't terrible to HIM, and they were sort of fun to hang out with. Did they really deserve to get expelled for what they did...?

 

Feeling sick to his stomach over that question and why it sounded so wrong to ask it, even to himself, he switched focus to something else. Gary was apparently coming back to school. The principal hadn't said when, but it sounded as though it would be sooner rather then later. What would that be like? He couldn't picture things just going back to normal, fake as that normalcy was.

 

Disappointed, he thought as the students rose to leave the auditorium. In all honesty, Ash thought the man had a right to be.

 

\--

 

For once in the two years he'd played, Ash skipped baseball practice and went straight home. May Maple looked as though she wanted to know why, but she and Drew apparently were not back on speaking terms with him. All the girl did was glance at him in the reflection of the bus windows. Ash pointedly tried to ignore her, not ready to converse with either of them yet. He knew he'd have to deal with questions from his mother, likely along the lines of if he was feeling sick, and so he was steeling himself for them when he stepped off the bus onto the sidewalk in front of his home.

 

Instead, however, his eyes again traveled to the house next to his own. For once, someone was there, fumbling with the front door and trying to balance what looked like a stack of folders and a laptop case. He knew what was coming the moment the door finally opened, and winced as Bree knocked Tracey Sketchit over with excited barks.

 

"Dammit...! Get off me!" Ash was already jogging over as Tracey angrily cursed everything under the sun, the German Shepard sitting happily on his abdomen without a care in the world. She bounded off upon noticing Ash, who fumbled before bracing himself for her pounce. "You mangy dog, get over here! Ah...Ash, I'm so sorry. She's been so onry lately."

 

"It's okay. We're old friends, right girl?" He hadn't been knocked over by the large dog, who had her front paws on his shoulders and was licking at his chin. "Wow, did you get big or what? Way too big for me to carry anymore." To his surprise, he laughed, and Tracey joined in as Bree finally got down and rolled onto her back for the boy to kneel down and pet her belly. A thought came to him, then, and he blurted: "Have you been walking her?"

 

The assistant teacher's smile drooped a little. What was left was a sad ghost of one as he began to pick up the spilled folders. "...No. I'm busy trying to catch up with where Mr. Oak left off in your lessons, comparing notes. And when he's home, he's..." The young man trailed off, chewing his lip. "...He's not in the best of places, right now." There was a pause, and he opened his laptop case to check the machine inside for damage. "Gary...usually walked her. She hasn't been herself since he..."

 

Silence fell between them, tense. Ash absently kept petting Bree, who seemed to sense the unease in the air and was laying with her large head between her paws, brows twitching as she looked this way and that. Tracey finally stood, then, and called to her, but the dog wouldn't move.

 

"Let me walk her, Tracey." The idea came out of nowhere, but it didn't feel wrong when Ash said it aloud. His eyes traveled up, to where his older friend was regarding him with careful curiosity. "Please. She's just lonely, that's all. We'll go on a walk and I'll bring her back, I promise."

 

For a moment, it looked like the other male would say no. Then he sighed tiredly. "Come get her leash, I've got my hands full."

 

At the word 'leash' Bree lept to her feet, bolting into the house with a yip. Ash couldn't help but share a little of her excitement; it had been a few years since he'd had a pet of his own, and his mother was reluctant to have another animal in their house. Even if the dog wasn't his own, he was happy to spend a little time with the loving creature.

 

He hesitated at the threshold of the Oaks' home, though. Just like a reflection of when he'd last had a pet, it had been years since he'd stepped foot inside this house. Most of the decor looked the same from what he could see: slightly rustic, not too messy but certainly with a 'lived in' feel to it. It smelled just faintly of dog, but only just. He swallowed involuntarily upon seeing a pair of Gary's shoes as well as his coat by the door.

 

"Ash? If you're going to take her, do it now; she's got her leash for you."

 

"I..." He braced himself, then stepped through the doorway. "I'm coming, sorry."

 

 His feet padded away from the open front door, past the abandoned shoes and the coat. The stairway leading to the second floor was just a few feet inside the house, much like the layout of his own home. To the right of this was a parallel hallway ending in an open arch. The archway had light radiating from it, and the sounds of Tracey setting things down just beyond it reached his ears. He could also hear Bree's claws clicking anxiously against the wooden floor there, so he shut the front door before taking a deep breath and heading down the hallway towards them. On either side, going up the side of the staircase and on the opposite wall, were various frames. Unlike most homes, these frames mostly contained articles about scientific information, as well as diagrams of various things. One of Ash's favorites as a child had been one such diagram of a Praying Mantis, drawn and colored with great detail. It appeared to still be there, although he was now the right height to view it.

 

He stopped to look at it, but his eyes didn't stay for long. They wandered towards a more recently filled spot of wall, the contents of the black frame there not pertaining to science journal cut-outs. Slowly, his mouth turned down into a frown as he stepped cautiously closer to the picture. Something unsettling was stirring once again in his chest, where it had apparently taken up residence since that Tuesday. One of the old wooden deck-chairs he was so used to seeing from his bedroom window was the primary focus of the photo, a book laying face down and opened across the slats. In the background, Gary Oak was sitting with his back to the photographer on the deck stairs, apparently looking at something out in the yard that couldn't be seen. Beside him, Bree contrasted his apparent stoic posture with general dog-brand silliness: her head was almost at a 180 degree angle from her body, twisted so she could stare at the camera with her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. Small blurs near the edges of her head seemed to indicate she'd just turned around, likely at the sound of the 'click'.

 

"Took that about two weeks ago." The voice of Ash's older friend startled him. He was surprised by the tiny feeling of guilt that arose, as if he were embarrassed to have been caught looking at the picture at all. The taller male stepped closer, fixing the frame where it was misaligned on the wall (something Ash hadn't noticed). "He set down his book to play fetch with her and didn't go back to it right away. Todd's been picking at me for weeks about how he'll manage to sketch something decent before I can take a decent picture. I just set the laptop down on the kitchen floor and took it. Not bad, huh? Todd's refusing to admit it is, though."

 

"That sounds like Todd." Ash agreed, smiling faintly at the mention of one of his other older friends before glancing back at the picture. "It's good, yeah."

 

He didn't realize that it had been quiet for longer then he'd intended until Tracey shifted in place, his hands in his pockets. "...I didn't know anything was wrong...neither of us did." One of the other male's hands came out of his pockets, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I took that picture two weeks ago. I feel like I should've seen something, _anything_. I thought this was great when I first took it. Now I just...I hate it. Something feels wrong about it. I--..." Tracey caught his breath, caught the torrent of words flowing out of his mouth, and tried to put on another smile. "I'm sorry. Here, come get this dumb dog before she starts whining..."

 

The abrupt halt in his rant had Ash staring after him as he wandered back to the kitchen. It sounded a lot like what he, himself, had been thinking of quite a bit. As he finally drew himself away from the picture of Gary Oak and his goofy dog, he felt slightly relieved that he wasn't the only one experiencing the odd phenomenon. It was also fairly interesting to see Tracey opening up about it, after the couple days in which he refused to speak on it at all. Something was there, something deeper then just a casual acquaintance-relationship with his mentor's grandson. Were they friends?, Ash wondered, stepping into the warmly lit kitchen. Mentally, he filed the thoughts away for examination later.

 

Bree did indeed seem eager to leave, and that became apparent when she all but twisted his legs up in the end of her leash the moment he stepped into the kitchen. Despite her enthusiasm, she managed to sit still while he clipped the end of the yellow and green lead to her collar before bolting past him to the door. He barely caught Tracey's farewell and laughter before being forced to open the front door.

 

Thankfully, Bree's rambunctious behavior ground to a halt the moment her paws hit the sidewalk. Her gait wasn't too fast, nor too slow, and Ash found he could keep up with her easily. It was only the tiniest bit strange, and only in the sense that he had last gone on a walk with her and her master around the time she was still a puppy. Back then, it had been impossible to get her to walk in a straight line for more then five seconds, let alone the entire trip. Ash was secretly impressed. He had assumed that the absence of Gary would cause the dog to act rowdy and unpredictable, but she behaved just the same as when he'd seen Gary walk her on his own. It was relaxing: he hadn't been on a walk in his area in some time, and being alone with the well-behaved animal in the slightly-chilly November air was refreshing.

 

Ash found that Bree usually took the lead, somehow, even though she walked diligently at his side. The dog had a usual route, it seemed. Without even knowing it, Ash periodically found that she had managed to guide him down specific roads with him being none the wiser. There was no protesting on her part, and to his relief, he found he could let himself drift away into his thoughts while counting on Bree to lead.

 

"I gotta get a dog..." He mumbled aloud, and Bree only glanced up at him to confirm he hadn't uttered a command.

 

Her destination was revealed to be the empty suburban park five blocks away. It was a wide open space that had been a run down garage up until Ash had turned five, at which point the town had decided to finally demolish the building and turn it into a small park for the children. A smattering of playground equipment sat at the middle, with wide grass-expanses all around it. This was, from what his mother had told him, to deter unsavory folk from snatching younger children close to the sidewalk, although he didn't understand how. There was a dogs-allowed sign at either end of the park, and Bree stopped to do some business by the one closest to them before peering hopefully up at Ash. He bit his lip, eyes taking in the other three ends of the park. Did Gary let her off her leash here? Would she be okay?

 

In the end, he gave her an apologetic smile and shook his head. "Not today, Bree, I'm sorry." To her credit, she only whined once before standing. Instead of heading back to the sidewalk, though, she lead him to the old playground. The mulch was dotted with patches of crab grass, and the swing set where the dog eventually sat down had only muddy tarp under where countless pairs of children's feet had scraped away the water-logged wood chips. She looked up at him expectantly, and seemed content when he dropped down on the swing close to her, leash handle looped around his wrist.

 

The morning and afternoon bus passed the park day after day, and Ash again recalled the last time he'd physically been here was a least a couple years back. For a moment, he wondered why he never saw Bree and Gary here on his way home, but it occurred to him that they would likely have finished up and gone home by the time his baseball practice was about finished. He knew they went daily for walks from seeing them on the weekends and on the rare day he stayed home sick. It was evident in Bree's behavior, as well, although he did think it was odd that when she didn't get to run around, she brought him here instead.

 

It was when he felt the dog rest her chin on his legs that something dawned on him. Maybe sometimes Gary didn't feel like playing when they came to this old park, and instead just wanted to sit where he'd be alone with his dog. He didn't know how he was drawing such a specific conclusion, but he had a feeling...just from the way Bree was looking up at him, the way she sat so still. She was used to this. Slowly, he lowered his hand to her head, and though her tail wagged, she didn't move away.

 

She was comforting him, he realized, and the sick feeling returned. Just how many times had Gary dropped down here on this swing for his dog to make it a part of her walk routine? The mental image of Gary the day Ash had watched him get the life pummeled out of him came to mind, and he pictured him saving face as he walked Bree down to this park before sinking onto this swing and just...staring. He would have been too hurt to want to do any playing, but never too hurt to want to spend time with his dog. Bree understood. She would have sat there with her head on his lap, listening to him as he - maybe - told her what had happened that day.

 

Ash kept his hand from balling up in Bree's fur, biting his lip. How many times had Gary spoken to her about ASH? She wouldn't know, of course. There was only so much a dog could understand. It was the principle of it all that mattered. He slid out of the swing, kneeling next to the dog and curling his arm around her neck. Bree didn't show any signs of minding the change. He leaned his head against hers, black strands meshing with the black fur, and stared down at the dull brown mulch. The boy didn't say anything; he didn't think anything needed to be said.

 

The slight drop in temperature was what finally made Ash get back to his feet, quietly urging Bree to do the same. She was of course already one step ahead of him and waiting while he dusted off his jeans. The two returned to the sidewalk as the sun's light began to grow orange, and the rest of the walk home was uneventful aside from Ash's head buzzing with ideas he didn't want to begin to entertain.

 

\--

 

The tiny little eco-friendly car Ash was so used to seeing not only next door but in the faculty parking lot at school was in the Oaks' driveway when he returned with Bree. Once again, the brief shimmer of hope arose that Gary was home again. Bree seemed to share this idea, and nearly yanked Ash's arm out of socket the moment her paws touched the walkway leading to the front door. The boy nearly ate the brickwork in the process, and as it was barely managed to catch himself as he tripped his way up to the door.

 

He barely had to knock before the door opened, and had to pull back on the leash in his hands to prevent the excited dog on the other end from knocking down the elderly man in the foyer. "Bree...!"

 

"It's all right, Ash, I'm more then used to this. Come here, girl." Bree held still, staring into the house as the old man unclipped her leash, allowing her to bolt up the stairs with a whine. Ash's heart was suddenly in his throat, and he listened carefully to the dog head down one side of the hall that pointed towards his own house. "He isn't there."

 

The tone Samuel Oak used was quiet and kind, but Ash could hear the strain in it. "Oh..." And as if to drive home the feeling of disappointment, Bree trotted downstairs slower then she'd gone up, padding into the kitchen with less enthusiasm then before. Ash's hands went to his pockets before he realized the dog's leash was still wrapped around one of his wrists, and he hastily removed it, handing it over. "Here, sorry. You weren't worried, right? Tracey said it was okay for me to walk her, I know she gets one almost every day."

 

In response to the start of Ash's rambling, the man held up his hands with a small smile on his face and a chuckle. "It's quite a surprise, I'll admit, but it's fine. Poor creature probably thinks we've forgotten her." Ash smiled when the man laughed again, somewhat relieved.

 

Mr. Oak, besides being one of the many teachers where Ash went to high-school, was also a bit of a town celebrity. He'd had several of his findings published over the years that Ash had lived next door, in various places. The man had all the smarts to teach college, but humbly stated he preferred his lab at the high-school. He was also a wonderful neighbor and a close friend to Ash's mother. Even now, after his grandson and Ash had fallen out, he seemed to enjoy talking to the dark-haired boy when they happened to pass by. Ash didn't have many other relatives, much less a grandfather, but he assumed this was what having one was like.

 

"I do hope Tracey has been keeping up with you all." He was saying, now, still looking faintly amused, "I did my best to keep things neat and tidy in case of an absence, but one can never be too sure. And you're keeping up with homework, yes?"

 

Ash nervously laughed under the man's stern, questioning gaze. "Uh...yeah, of course. Coach says he'll kick me out if my grades drop."

 

"Well, even if it's for the sake of a sport, I suppose I should be grateful." Came the reply, complete with a sigh. There was a pause, then, and it made things highly uncomfortable for the both of them. There Ash was, standing on the Oaks' doorstep, having walked their dog and now blatantly aware that the last time he'd stood here with the man, he'd been asking for his friend. Who was no longer his friend, of course, and also had tried to kill himself. Ash squirmed, and the adult finally addressed the unspoken matter with a smaller sigh. "...He won't be home until next week."

 

"I-- Oh...Okay." The boy cringed, aware of how awkward that sounded. His neighbor didn't seem to notice, or perhaps didn't mind. The older man reached up and rubbed at his eyes. He was old, yes, but Ash noticed with a sinking heart that Samuel looked much older then before. For once since that Tuesday, he felt angry at Gary Oak, if only for causing so much fatigue in his kindly grandfather. The feeling left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he felt stupid for even thinking of being angry. Swallowing, hoping to get rid of the lingering sourness, he spoke up again. "Is he...okay?"

 

"Oh, yes, yes." Oak waved his hand dismissively, "They wouldn't be releasing him so soon if he wasn't. No permanent damage, thank goodness." He petered off then, and wouldn't look Ash in the eyes. The fact that there was still damage done on a non-physical level went without saying. "They're talking about sending him home Monday...I'll be in for a little while during the morning to talk to a few of my classes before going to get him. Then I'll be off a couple more days afterwards. Should be back to teaching by next Thursday. Keep Tracey in line for me, would you?" The smile was brief, and Ash returned it at the light joke. Bree appeared once again at the door, sitting beside the old man's feet and butting his hand with her snout. "Oh...you love-addicted creature. I'll sit down with you in a moment."

 

The sight of the German Shepard sparked something in Ash, who thought a moment before peering up from the dog to the old man. "...Do you mind if I walk her again tomorrow? I mean, nobody's gonna be home besides Tracey. Maybe...um...when we get back..." He stopped, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. "...I mean...if you can...I'd wanna go see how he's doing. I can ask mom to take me if you can't."

 

 He was reminded of Wednesday, just the day before, when he'd thought Misty had been about to tell him she didn't understand. For the briefest of moments, he thought Gary's grandfather would reject him in a similar fashion, maybe citing how the boys weren't friends anymore and that it wasn't a good idea. Ash even braced himself for it, thought of how he would back-pedal, before Samuel spoke up.

 

"That's very thoughtful of you. I'd be happy to take you, if you'd really like to." And, in an undertone Ash wasn't sure he was supposed to have heard, "Maybe that's what the boy needs..." The slightly troubled, lost expression was quickly replaced by a more happy one, and the old man nodded. "I'll see to it Tracey knows you'll be by for Bree. Of course, we can wait until after your practice-"

 

"It's fine, I kinda skipped out today. I'll tell coach I sprained my arm or something." The words were out of Ash's mouth before he even had time to think on them. It struck him how odd that sounded: he didn't make excuses to skip out on practices. He loved baseball. The fact that he was doing for something like this didn't feel right. Regardless, he hid his unease behind a smile of his own and wondered if maybe the older man was doing the same. "I'll come home on the regular bus."

 

"You're sure? It's not that important for Bree to be walked, I'm sure she can last a couple days."

 

Ash shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender as the teacher had earlier on. "It's okay, she's not exactly hard to handle. Actually," He knelt a little, beckoning Bree to come down the one step towards him, "I think walking her today was something I needed to do. Just worrying about a dog for once after school and not a bunch of guys tossing baseballs was good." He meant it as a joke, but there was more serious meaning there, even if he didn't know it. His fingers were once again sliding through dark-colored fur, and he ruffled the space between Bree's ears before ushering her back to the door.

 

"Well...I'm glad, then." Samuel murmured, reaching down with a much larger hand to pat the dog on the head. "Maybe everyone needs to start doing something out of the usual routine to calm down a little." His eyes gained a sort of faraway quality to them just for a moment before the man was looking up at Ash once again. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon then. And if you should happen to...change your mind...I won't hold it against you."

 

"I won't. Change my mind, I mean." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, waving to the teacher with the other. "G'night!"

 

There was a hearty 'Good night, lad!' before the door closed. Ash shivered, now aware once again that it was cold, that the sunlight was now fading fast over the horizon. The promise of dinner was what finally sealed him moving away over the grass to his home next door, not catching notice of how Bree followed him to the furthest window on the ground floor from the inside of the Oaks' home, and how she sat watching him disappear into his home.

 

\--

 

For once in his life, Ash did not have to be asked to help with clearing the table once dinner was finished. He didn't just dump the stack of dishes in the sink and leave them, either, and was scrubbing away at them when his mother came in from wiping down the table. He could hear her stop at the open doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, and didn't hear her move for a few minutes. Once he was sure it'd been a good five minutes, he rolled his eyes. "I promise, I'm not sick, mom."

 

"Mm..." Was her response, and he finally heard her flats continue tapping across the laminate until she stood beside him and the sink. When her hand came up to feel his forehead, the boy rolled his head on one of his shoulders to peer up at her, pouting. It made her smile, and she moved her hand away. "Sorry. Just have to check."

 

"Mo-oom..."

 

"I know, I know." His mother picked up a small hand towel, drying the clean dishes with practiced ease (Ash never got how she got them dry the first try, he always seemed to leave damp streaks). "Can you blame me for checking? First your coach calls about you not showing up for practice, now you're doing dishes. Unless you're in trouble..."

 

The warning tone in her voice made him cringe, even if he knew he wasn't in trouble. "No mom. Not sick, not in trouble. Just..." He paused, and her hands slowed. "...Just...tired, I guess. I didn't feel like dealing with everyone at practice today."

 

His mother made another small noise to show she was listening, and her hands resumed their work on the wet dishes and cutlery. "But not tired enough to leave the dishes...?"

 

The pause between them was long, it felt like, but Ash knew it was only a second or so. He hadn't noticed her setting down the towel, so Ash was startled when his mother placed her hand on his shoulder. "Honey?"

 

"I'm going to go see him tomorrow."

 

"Your coach?" She questioned, concerned. "You aren't quitting, are you?"

 

"What? No!" He was momentarily caught off-guard by the assumption, and felt morally wronged by it to an extent. "Quit baseball? No way, mom!"

 

The relief on her face made him feel much better. His mother had always supported his interest in the sport, and seeing her concerned over the idea of him quitting and her relief over it being proven false spurned on good feelings towards her. "Don't scare me like that, Ash. I would've taken you RIGHT to the hospital; my son loves playing ball."

 

"Right, so don't worry about it. Trust me, the last thing I want to do is quit the team." Ash pulled his hands out from under the tap, shutting it off and taking the towel his mother offered him. The faint smile on her face warmed him much more then the hot water had. "But I do have to talk to him tomorrow." For a brief moment, he considered not telling her where he was planning on going instead of his usual practice, but it was only briefly. "I'm going to walk Bree. I did that today instead. Mr. Oak's supposed to take me afterwards up to see Gary."

 

His mother's expression turned from slight curiosity to full-blown confusion. "You are?" She asked, finally, voice quiet and careful. "...What brought this on?"

 

All Ash could do was shrug. "I dunno, to be honest. It just sort've...happened. I almost went over yesterday, but I didn't. Today Tracey was outside and Bree knocked him over. It just felt like something I wanted to do then, take her for a walk. So I asked, and I did."

 

"Well, you always did like anything that walks, crawls, flies or swims." Came his mother's faint reply. "...What made you want to go to the hospital tomorrow?"

 

He recognized the caution in her voice, and felt bad for it. He didn't think she ever had to use that tone with him, and the couple times he HAD gotten angry with her for asking an odd question, it hadn't lasted long. That wariness was someone else's fault, and Ash didn't know who had put it there. He never asked, and didn't really want to. The fact she that she had to use it on her own son hurt him in ways he couldn't explain, made him want to tell her he'd never be TOO angry with her. How could he be? His mother was perfect, in his eyes.

 

Regardless of how he felt about the tone, he answered with no irritation in his voice. "Something else that just hit me. I was talking with Mr. Oak and it just...came out. I even told him I wouldn't change my mind." He paused, leaning against the counter with his arms folded on it. "I still don't think I will. It's weird, mom."

 

Her hand found its way back to his shoulder, then to his hair. It was a familiar gesture of comfort that instantly made him feel less worried. "I hope you don't. Maybe it'll help...both of you. Just be careful, Ash." His eyes found her again, watching as she talked. "I believe you're doing it because you want to help, but don't be surprised if Gary doesn't see it that way, or doesn't want to see you at all. He's in a bad place right now."

 

"I know, I've been thinking about that." Ash admitted, frowning. It was highly possible that Samuel Oak would come back out of Gary's hospital room and tell Ash that Gary didn't 'feel up to company', but Ash would know what that really meant. He knew his mother was referring to the fact that the other boy likely wasn't up to talking to anyone at all, but Ash had a feeling his own name wouldn't be well received, more so then any other possible visitors. "...He's just gonna have to deal with it. I'm going, even if he doesn't want me to."

 

 His mother sighed once more, toying with a lock of Ash's messy, dark-colored hair. "You stubborn little thing. I don't know why I expected any other response then that one." Her fingertips moved from his hair to his cheek, her other hand cupping the other side of his face in kind. She still looked so tired, Ash thought, but her hands were always so smooth and gentle. "Please don't be quick to lose your temper with him. I know the two of you aren't anywhere close to friendly anymore, but that doesn't change what's happened."

 

"I know, mom." Ash replied in a murmur, and didn't flinch when she leaned in to kiss his forehead, nor did he complain. It was, though, followed by a yawn, and he pushed away from the counter top lightly. The woman took her hands away from his face, laying them instead around his shoulders and back when he wrapped her in a loose hug. "Thanks for...a lot, mom. Dinner especially."

 

Her giggle was like a small breeze playing with a wind-chime. "It's always food with you, isn't it? One of these days that metabolism of yours is going to quit on you." She warned, finally pulling away and watching the boy head towards the door next to the pantry. "Good night, Ash."

 

"Love you mom." He called, pulling open the door and ascending the staircase inside of the small room.

 

Several of the houses on the street, while small, were quite old. A couple had connecting passages (since bricked over by modern home-owners) between their basements, or small hidden spaces that were hard to find unless you knew what to look for. One of these features was the addition of the 'pantry stairs' to some homes. These doors did not open up to a larder like most would in a normal kitchen, but to a set of spiral stairs or - if you were unlucky - a ladder. This was the only way to access the attic spaces in most of these homes, and the spaces at the top of the stairs or ladder were quite popular to turn into bedrooms in today's times.

 

Ash and his mother lived in such a house. The Oaks' house was much newer, and therefore didn't have the same interesting feature. Unlike most of the homes with the pantry stairs, though, the room was only on the second floor instead of in the attic. Ash's mother told him that she'd noticed a window from outside of the house who's room she couldn't seem to find on her first tour of the house. The Realtor had been happy to show her the stairs leading up into the cozy second floor room. As little as he was, it was only natural that Ash had wanted the room for his own, which Delia Ketchum had reluctantly agreed to, on the condition that one of the walls have a door placed in it to allow the boy access to the adjacent bathroom and the rest of the house. He'd kicked up a fuss about that, but in the end, it was much better being able to get to the bathroom just by opening a door. Somehow, his mother had known he wouldn't want to head all the way down the stairs in the dark in the middle of the night for anything. Imagine that.

 

This was the room that faced the Oaks' home, the window looking into Gary Oak's own. It had taken a lot of maneuvering and work to get furniture into it, considering it had had to be worked through the bathroom door at a ninety degree angle, but it was comfy all the same. Messy as well. The bed was unmade, Ash's pajamas from the night before were slung haphazardly over the post at the end of it. His desk was a cluster of notes, pens, video game cases and the occasional magazine. Several hats and various items had grown on the back of the chair by the desk and threatened to tip it over. The only semi-clean space was on top of his dresser, which was taken up by a large, very clean cage. The occupant was immediately at the bars, making small twitchy motions with its nose as he put his foot on the last stair.

 

While Ash's mother had never been keen on having pets in her nice, clean house, it was difficult to argue with her son over having one. He was deeply enamored with all forms of animal life, from small fluffy animals to scaly and slimy creatures. Ash chalked up her finally taking him to the local pet supply super store for an animal to the day he'd threatened to keep the huge black snake he'd found under the hydrangea bush she loved so much. She had allowed him to pick out one animal, smaller then a cat, and even tried to tempt him to get fish. It wasn't that he hated fish, but he couldn't play with them. The plea fell flat, and his mother allowed him to drag her to where the small mammals were kept. It was how Ash met Pika, or 'Buddy', as he called him. Out of all the cute fluffy animals there - some of which Delia was starting to begrudgingly admit she liked - Pika was the one who caught his eye. It was a male ferret, and it commanded Ash's attention the moment he was within eyesight. It played and gamboled and ran from one end of its tank to the other, following him and licking the glass where his fingers would touch it. He was allowed to hold the creature, and it bit him as soon as he did, but he turned to his mother anyway and said that it had to be this ferret.

 

The bite had healed, and Pika was now a permanent fixture in their home. Well, in his room, anyway. Ash's mother refused to let it roam about the house freely unless it was in one of the plastic rolling balls hamsters seemed to love. Ash's bedroom was its playground once he was home. As he approached the cage, now, he made a couple soft kissing sounds at the creature, reaching up and opening the door on the cage. The small animal immediately scrambled up his arm to his shoulder, rolling under his chin and into his shirt, making him squirm and laugh as it popped out of his opposite sleeve. He was careful in sitting on his bed, making sure not to squash the creature as he sprawled out over the wrinkled sheets.

 

"What a day, Buddy." He muttered, wrinkling his nose as Pika emerged from the collar of his shirt and sniffed at his face. It continued to sniff, using its paws to grab his fingers when he reached up to pet it. "You smell the dog, huh? It's okay. I promise, she's not my favorite. OW. No biting." The ferret nibbled instead before deciding it was satisfied with Ash's behavior. It licked his nose a couple times before skittering in a tight circle and curling up into a ball beneath his chin. The light, warm weight on his throat was welcome, and the boy laid his hands on his chest. Talking would probably aggravate the sleepy ferret, so he was content to lay there and stare at the ceiling for a few moments.

 

 He was kidding himself if he didn't think he wasn't apprehensive about the next day. Once his body had relaxed, his brain began to wind itself up again. It explored the various ways things would play out upon him setting foot into the hospital. He gave himself hope that maybe it wouldn't be so bad, maybe Gary wouldn't immediately tell him to leave, at the very least. Or it would be horrible, complete with fighting across the bleached floors. All the things that could be said left him switching between a half-smirk and a cringe.

 

His thoughts shifted to his friends, for which Ash was grateful for if only briefly. Misty was going to worry if he missed practice again and didn't tell her. Between her and Brock, he knew that his mother would likely be answering the house phone sometime tomorrow while he was out walking Bree, if not straight up answering the door for them. They wouldn't be angry (well, Brock wouldn't), but he knew he'd have to explain what was going on at some point. The trouble was that Ash didn't really know himself just what the issue was. He still couldn't wrap his head around why Gary's situation bothered him so much, considering neither of them could stand one another any more.

 

Maybe that was it, he mused, twitching his fingers up to lightly scratch at the ferret laying on his neck. Ash had never really understood just why Gary had fallen out of favor with him. It just...happened. Just like that. One day they just weren't friends anymore. It had always troubled him, but gradually he'd filed it away in some dusty corner of his brain's information library. It was unimportant up until Tuesday. Ash hadn't cared as much as time went on, and Gary apparently didn't, either.

 

Or did he?

 

Once again, beyond his want or control, the dark-haired boy was caught on the image of his former friend in the hallway just after Ash had lightly shoved him. Like someone had pressed pause on some out-dated VCR, the image of Gary's face was frozen in that weird look. Ash still couldn't place what it had been. Confusion, yes, (he imagined himself drawing on the image on an overhead for a faceless class), but also some other emotions Ash couldn't name. His brows furrowed in frustration, mental image still stuck somewhere that he believed was behind his eyes. He just wasn't that good at reading people. Gary looked troubled, but in a complicated way. There was something THERE that Ash knew he needed, but didn't know what exactly it was.

 

With a dawning but sinking feeling, he wondered if his other friends had ever done something similar. Just looked at him and expected him to get that something was wrong. He couldn't tell. He couldn't remember. In fact, he couldn't recall ever getting this worked up over anything before, or anyone. How many times had he missed the same looks, or similar ones, from his friends?

 

It was when Ash found he couldn't recall his friends telling him their troubles save for teenage-trivial ones that he realized he didn't know them as well as he thought he did. He was at Misty's house so often, but she never told him anything he considered 'serious'. Brock gave him advice so often, but he'd never listened to Brock talk about much of anything outside of his fleeting crushes of the week. This was the most serious, real world thing that had ever occurred in his life. With sudden dread, Ash figured out that the person he knew the most about was his neighbor, someone who mutually hated him and had over the course of several years. Even then, his knowledge of his former friend was limited.

 

It was all so unsettling. The air felt so much heavier, threatening to pin him to his mattress. Gently, he cupped Pika in one hand as he rolled over, sluggishly hauling himself off his bed to place the exhausted creature away. Placing the yawning ferret in its cage, he lightly rubbed between its tiny ears, feeling much more tired then he had before. "You're lucky y're a ferret, Buddy..."

 

Pika only made a tiny squeak noise in reply, retreating into a fleece-lined tube for sleep. Once the door was closed up again, the boy fumbled around in his dresser for something warm to wear to bed and stumbled into the bathroom to run a toothbrush over his teeth a couple times. Into bed he fell soon after, the lights off and surrounding him in darkness. For a brief moment, he stared at the window where he could see a small corner of the house next door.

 

The apprehension for the day to come swimming in his belly did not help him sleep. He walked through shadowed, crowded corridors where he couldn't see anyone's face, trying to keep his eyes on the only figure who had any distinct features. He reached constantly forward, fingers just barely missing the shoulder of Gary's sweater. Ash needed to see his face, needed to see that look one more time so that he could decipher it. Small tendrils of dread and unease slowly crept up closer and closer with every grab he made, the crowds getting closer and closer. He didn't want to see Gary's face, but he needed to.

 

Finally, his fingers grasped fabric, his mouth opened wide to say the other boy's name, though the word came out muffled and faraway sounding. At once, Gary turned around. Ash didn't know what he expected. Still, he felt his breath lodge in his throat, staring at the other boy while the faceless students shuffled around them. The sweater fabric under his hand had changed, and it was now crinkly paper of a hospital gown tied up around Gary's neck. The other boy's eyes had a milky film that muted the green of his irises. There was a great clang as a set of metal bars slammed down between them, nearly catching Ash's hand in the cross hatches. They were yellow, and he reached through them for the other male only to have Gary disappear as the bars moved away down the hall, phasing through the crowd but apparently taking the other boy with them.

 

The rest of his sleep was, blessedly, dreamless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Gary, not yet. Be patient, Chapter 3 is when he'll finally get his time to shine. I apologize for this chapter being shorter then the first.
> 
> I'm partial to the idea of Pikachu being a ferret, since I've had some really positive experiences with them. They're super cute.
> 
> Ash's bedroom and his home is based on a home I was dropped off at as a child to be baby-sat in. One of the sons had a room in the attic only accessible through the kitchen via a set of spiral stairs. I thought it was the coolest thing, but was told by the home-owner that several other older homes in town had the same feature.
> 
> On a side-note, and unrelated to 'Flying Shoes', I made bat and pumpkin shaped cupcakes last night. I iced them to look like Zubats and Pumpkaboos, respectively. So uh. Happy Halloween. Smell ya later.


	3. Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confronting the other side of a long war with offerings of peace, long after the battles have left their injuries.
> 
> Set the edges of the puzzle up first before placing the pieces in the middle inside. Connected pieces when you notice they fit each other, but don't force them. It'll all come together in time.

It was literally the first Friday in Ash's entire life that he didn't look forward to.  
   
There were many, many reasons to love Fridays. Country-wide, it was the day before the weekend. It meant forgoing homework for the night in favor of staying out later and goofing off. The baseball team would head out for dinner together at a local restaurant and usually stay out way past the last bus, forcing the ones who had licenses to drive the younger ones home. Ash's mother usually participated in dropping off a couple of his teammates, as Friday was also her day off. Sometimes Ritchie stayed over, which kicked SO much ass. By all accounts and purposes, there was really no reason for Ash to hate Fridays.  
   
He did hate this one, though. Hate was a strong word; he was more cautious about approaching the day. There was still a full eight or so hours before he'd be stepping off the bus back at home, and those eight hours even from the time he awoke seemed too long for his liking.  
   
Ash was also not prepared for the questioning, which started the moment Ritchie got on the coughing, sputtering bus.  
   
"What happened?" His friend called from half the bus away from where Ash was already seated, causing a few nosy freshmen and one bored senior to glance at them. He dropped his bag heavily on the floor in front of the seat before sinking into it beside the dark-haired boy. Ritchie's expression was a mixture of worry and frustration. "I thought coach was going to flip out; you NEVER miss practice."  
   
Feeling uncomfortable already with the conversation, Ash shifted a little in his seat. His eyes caught May Maple's own in the reflection of the bus window in front of his seat before they darted away. "Sorry."  
   
Ritchie also shifted, putting his knees up against the seat in front of him. "Hey, don't apologize over it. We were worried you were sick, but you look pretty okay. Where'd you go?"  
   
Once again, he caught May's reflection staring at him. It was starting to irritate him, and he copied Ritchie's position. He MAY have put his knees into the seat a bit harshly. "Home. I just caught the normal bus back."  
   
"But why? ARE you sick? We've got a game Sunday, man, if you're sick--"  
   
"I'm not sick, okay...?" The answer wasn't loud, more of a murmur, but Ash felt like it was too loud anyway. "I just...needed to go home. Rough week. I didn't feel like putting up with Trip and Paul, and I just...y'know...needed space. Sheesh, it sounds like I'm dating the team."  
   
The half-hearted joke did succeed in making Ritchie smile a little. "I think most of us might as well be, with the way coach hammers us." His expression turned more serious upon only receiving a weak snort from the boy seated by the window. "Hey, you've been really out of it for a couple days...it's about Tuesday, yeah?"  
   
He opened his mouth, closed it, then jerked his head once in a nod. "Yep." He knew May was looking again, god dammit, but he was too mentally exhausted to care anymore. "'Fraid so."  
   
It startled Ash slightly when his friend clapped a hand on his shoulder, but the surprise was very brief. "I don't...know exactly what the whole story is. But if you wanna talk..." The suggestion was left open, but Ash knew what he meant. He felt touched by the gesture, in any case, and grinned faintly at his friend.  
   
"Thanks. It must look weird from where you're sitting. The whole thing."  
   
Ritchie snorted, taking his hand back so he could nudge Ash sharply with his elbow. "Hey, YOU'RE weird. I'm used to the general Ash Ketchum Brand Weird. OW!" He laughed as the dark-haired boy punched his arm, punching back. "You hit like a baby. Wanna chill at my place after practice today?"  
   
The beginnings of his good mood abruptly vanished, and the look on Ritchie's face told him that his own expression didn't look all that well. "I can't...I'm not going to practice today, either."  
   
"WHAT?! Shut up, you're kidding." But Ritchie's scoff was followed by silence. Slowly, the rusty-haired boy put his feet on the floor, staring oddly at Ash. "...Seriously? And you're not sick or dying?"  
   
"No. Promise." Faintly, he was reminded of making a similar sort of assuring remark to his mother the night before based on the same accusation. "I...have something I gotta do at home."  
   
"Coach is going to rip you a new asshole, Ash, what're you thinking?"  
   
"Look..." He glanced at the window again, watching another set of eyes once again look away hurriedly, before leaning in towards his friend. "...I'm going up to see him, all right? In the hospital."  
   
Ritchie's eyes widened comically, first staring at the seat and then back up at Ash's face. "...No way, really? Why? I mean...you told me you hated the guy. What's going on?"  
   
Ash made a hissing noise, glaring pointedly at the seat in front of them and getting a soft 'sorry' from his friend. "I grew up next to the guy, and my mom's good friends with his granddad. So'm I, really. We talked a little yesterday and...I offered to go up with him to see Gary. Think about it, man, NOBODY talks to that kid, NOBODY. I don't...I don't HATE him." Briefly, he swallowed, aware his mouth had suddenly gone dry. "...Maybe he needs somebody to talk to. I kinda know him. We can start there and...maybe he'll get better. I don't know, it just feels like something I NEED to do, you know?"  
   
"No, I really don't." Ritchie admitted, looking confused but awed at the same time. "You think that'll go over well? I mean...Ash, no, I really DON'T get it. Is this closure for you or something?" Ash gave him a sour look, and Ritchie held up a hand. "Look, all I'm saying is that it doesn't make sense why you wanna throw yourself into this. People are gonna talk. A lot."  
   
"Let'em, I don't care."  
   
"Yeah, you do." Ash stared in surprise at the other boy, who set his mouth in a firm line and nodded. "You obviously do, or you wouldn't be so worked up. That giant performance at lunch, shutting down Paul. Yeah, you DO care what people say, and I know for a fact that the moment someone starts spreading rumors, you're going to flip a bitch. You're already wound up over this to begin with, you really think you trying to get involved with GARY is going to help anything? Cause it's not." He paused, then softly admitted: "Not to start with, anyway."  
   
"So what? What am I supposed to do, go back to pretending everything's okay? What if he gets out of the hospital and tries again?"  
   
"What're you trying to do, SAVE the guy?" Ritchie made a noise of disbelief. "You're a good guy, man, I'll give you that. Fine. If that's what you think you have to do, cool. It's not gonna change how I view you. But I'm telling you now:" He leaned in a little further, jerking his thumb at the seat where Drew and May were no doubt trying to catch every word the two boys were saying, "The rumor mill is going to eat. You. Alive. You and him both. You heard the kind of stuff people were saying about him. You're gonna be stuck between a rock, a hard place, and Gary Oak for a long time. This is the long con you're trying to pull, here. You sure you're up for that?"  
   
Ash had to think on that. His first year in high-school had been nothing short of great, considering his social standing. This year was shaping up to be no different, but it had faltered Wednesday and now appeared to be in danger of completely changing for good. He thought about how he sometimes broke up fights in the halls, tried to take up for the little guy more then once, and all the times he hadn't. Those little guys would be him, if he decided to do this. Did he really want to sit on the bottom rung of the social ladder with Gary Oak, just for the sake of one more friendship, one mended?  
   
He wondered what would happen. Misty and Brock would lay on train tracks before breaking off their friendship with him, so would Cilan - although the reasons for THAT were far different - , and Dawn Berlitz would continue to be friendly. Some of them would be nice to his face, but he had no honest idea about to his back. All of that over Gary? He couldn't grasp what the big deal truly would have been.  
   
Except some of them called Gary a 'fag' and even Cilan didn't know if that rumor was true or not. That would be why.  
   
It was overwhelming, the idea of not having all of his friends behind him just over mending one friendship. It didn't make sense that they'd move on and turn their backs on him, but Ash couldn't be sure some of them wouldn't, and even if they didn't, others would. The general population in the halls, between lockers and classrooms, would talk and make comments. He'd get the word 'faggot' sharpied onto his locker. What about the team? If there's one place you didn't want to be gay - or even rumored to be gay - , it was on a high-school sports team. Would the coach kick him off? Make him bench the year? The idea made Ash visibly sick.  
   
He knew the stories. He knew what happened to kids that apparently WEREN'T Cilan. He watched Gary get beat up behind the bleachers, and hadn't done a thing because he was scared for his own reputation and losing all his friends. That wasn't how he was supposed to be, he was just supposed to jump in regardless. The only thing that stopped him was a three letter slur that would crush his entire standing in the high-school hierarchy.  
   
Ash thought about that, and thought about Tuesday. His dream from the night before swam overtop of the images of the panic in the halls. Pale hands, glazed eyes. Yellow bars.  
   
"...I...don't know." He finally mumbled, nearly silent. He was staring at a fraying hole in Ritchie's pants - camo that day - and forced himself to look up at his friend's face. "But I don't...I don't want to not try. I can't not try."  
   
Ritchie pulled his cap from his head, fluffing his hair underneath and letting the hat dangle from two of his fingers. For a moment, he stared down at it, frowning a little. When he looked up, he seemed fatigued. "...Okay. Then just know, I'm still your friend. I know the truth, and I'll stick up for you if things get bad. Cool?"  
   
He held out his fist to Ash, who only hesitated a brief second before nudging it with his own fist, relieved. "Cool. Thanks, Ritchie."  
   
"Yeah man~"  
   
May Maple and the mysterious-asshole Drew were whispering together when Ash leaned back against his seat, but he didn't care. The whole bus could talk about him if they wanted to. He had one friend, at the very least, who would continue to be his friend if things got out of hand. Honestly, he wasn't sure why he was so worried about everyone else.  
   
Because, he thought with an awful squirming in his belly, he could very easily become the next punching bag, and it might not even be worth it. It would be pointless if the person he was giving up his popularity to chance for didn't even want his olive branch.  
   
Ash sincerely hoped for the best, but expected the worst.  
   
What a terrible Friday.  
   
\--  
   
After watching May and Drew practically bolt off the bus and into the building, Ash fully expected that the whispering would be in over-drive halfway through the day. Surprisingly, and to his relief, that did not end up being the case. Either the two of them had only caught too little to fuel a proper fire, or nobody believed them. Ash had a good idea that it was the former, considering May's known ability to have dirt before anyone else did. Still, his insides were twisted up into tight knots most of the day, waiting for the first insult to be thrown.  
   
It didn't come, not even during lunch, although Ash bypassed his usual table in favor of heading out the side door to the patio. He'd done this the day before, and didn't feel like dropping back into a seat with the same people who were likely still wound up in that day's gossip.  
   
Misty was already there, seated against the wall in the shade, her windbreaker zipped up to her chin. He nudged her with his sneaker before sitting next to her. The red-head had followed him the day before to this spot, and he was pleased to see she'd had the foresight to figure out that he'd be there again.  
   
"It's cold." She complained once he was seated. "You can't go pout inside instead?"  
   
"I'm not pouting." He shot back, frowning sourly at the idea. When she poked the side of his mouth, he swatted weakly at her hand. "I'm not!"  
   
Misty shrugged her shoulders, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, okay then. So why did you come back out here?" She pulled her legs up to her chest, laying her arms around them loosely. At least she was sensible and wore jeans, he thought. Some of the other girls were convinced that leggings and fuzzy booties were enough to get by, still.  
   
Loud crinkling sounds came from the cellophane wrapped around his sandwich as he tore it off, and he tossed the trash up into the bin beside him. "I think YOU were out here first, actually," Ash pointed out, peeling off one half of the bread from part of the sandwich so he could lay the sour cream chips inside on top of the tuna, "Maybe I just wanted to keep you company?"  
   
Glancing her way revealed Misty was blushing, although that could have been due to the cold. She set her chin on her knees, wrinkling her nose in disgust as he 'modified' his sandwich. "You know I'm out here because I knew you'd still be mad. Come on, tell me I'm wrong. If I was sitting inside with everyone else, would you be there?" Ash frowned in response. "Yeah, I thought so. You can't fool me, Ash Ketchum."  
   
"Yeah yeah..." He grumbled, biting into his masterpiece with a loud crunching noise. "F'ell 'e f'm'in I'un know..."  
   
"Gross."  
   
"F'rry." The boy swallowed before speaking again. "Do you want to go back in? I'll go if you go."  
   
"Flattering as that is, no, not really." Misty admitted, finally reaching beside herself to pick up her water bottle. There was a tiny series of snapping sounds as the top detached from the plastic ring at the neck. "I just got away from Serena. I'm pretty sure if I walk in with you next to me, she's going to either cry or have a full psychotic melt-down."  
   
Ash nearly choked from laughing. "Wow. I didn't even think about that. How was she to you after the whole lunch room thing on Wednesday?"  
   
Misty shrugged, again rolling her eyes with her eyebrows furrowed in mild annoyance. "Like you'd expect. A million questions." At once, her voice turned simpery, "'Oh, is he OKAYYYY? Where did you guys GOOOO? Why didn't you ask me to go?' You know," Her voice returned to normal, the water bottle touching her bottom lip, "The usual. It's not that I hate her or anything, we get along fine usually. But when it comes to YOU she just...gets weird."  
   
"I feel so bad for Clemont." The boy stated, now in the process of fixing up the other half of his tuna sandwich. "He can't work up the guts to tell her that he likes her, so he's gotta watch her every time she does that. Must suck."  
   
Ash, truthfully, didn't hate Serena either. She was blond, pretty, and sweet. She apparently lived next door to the aforementioned Clemont, who said that she often would play with his little sister. Fashionable and fun. Ash didn't mind hanging out with her, but the flaw in the friendship was that Serena had a very obvious and borderline-creepy crush on him. It fringed on being almost kindergarten-level in the way she went about it, and tended to make everyone - Ash included - rather uncomfortable. He knew for a fact that Serena had latched onto Misty the moment the blond girl had heard all the rumors about he and his red-haired friend being romantic with each other. Half the time, Misty wasn't bothered by her, and had even told her that the rumors were fake.  
   
It was easy to see why the girl got on his friend's nerves, though. He snickered as Misty muttered about what she'd like to do, in no peaceful terms, about the situation. His elbow caught her gently in her upper arm, cutting off her rant. "Hey, don't be so mad about it. At least she hasn't decided to murder you over it."  
   
"You don't have to deal with her when she's like that, I'm really not sure that's not coming." Misty replied, voice deadly serious, which made Ash laugh again. Her fist connected with his shoulder as she squawked in indignation. "Don't you laugh at me! My life could be at stake!"  
   
He continued to laugh anyway. The few other students brave enough to weather the chill in the air were staring occasionally, but he wasn't worried about them. Not with Misty. People would spread the same rumors about the two friends as they always did. He knew they weren't true, and nobody was going to beat him up over the whispered stipulation that he was possibly kissing on his best friend.  
   
The picture of him sitting here, not with Misty, but with Gary Oak laughing and joking around fleetingly entered his mind. He stopped laughing almost immediately, grin faltering. Someone WOULD probably take a few swings at him for the sorts of rumors that would start. Funny, how replacing the person would change everything.  
   
The idea brought back his talk with Ritchie, and he stared bemusedly at what was left of his lunch. Misty was staring straight ahead, into space, but he knew she had caught onto his change in mood and was just waiting for him to talk.  
   
"...Hey, so..." He shifted, pulling one of his legs upright, "...I'm going to the hospital today."  
   
Her blue eyes darted towards him briefly. "...Gary?" When Ash nodded, she mirrored it with a nod of her own. "Saw that one coming."  
   
"You did?" He froze, about to finish off his sandwich, brows coming together in bewilderment.  
   
"Um, yeah?" Her arm dangled over top of her knee, water bottle held by the neck in her fingers. "I saw it coming ever since Wednesday. Wasn't too hard to guess. Actually, I figured that was where you went yesterday, since I didn't see you at the sports buses. Did you-?"  
   
Ash shook his head, reaching down with one hand to open the can of soda beside his thigh. "Nah. I needed to get away from the team for a change. Pretty sure Trip and Paul are planning on when to nail me in the head with a fast ball as it is. You should've seen them Wednesday; THOSE two were pouting." He sipped from the now open can, the metal ice cold against his fingers and lips. "Anyway, no. I did go home and walk his dog though."  
   
"...What?" Misty gave him a confused look, stealing his soda to take a brief sip and hand it back. She didn't normally drink anything that wasn't water on a regular basis, but he was used to her taking a solitary swig of whatever he had. "Walked his-- You lost me."  
   
He chuckled, once again tucking his legs underneath himself. "You've never seen Gary's dog? You've been to my house how many times now?" When she scoffed, he continued on, "He's got this huge German Shepard. She's almost completely black; I'm pretty sure that's why their house never gets TPed on Mischief Night every year, she looks scary in the dark. But she's really sweet...I was jealous when he first got her. He walks her every day, and..." His smile faded a little, and he tapped the can of soda, half full, absently against his knee. "...and she's been upset since Tuesday, I can tell. She does this thing where she'll come up to the fence if she sees me and no one's out in the yard with her, when she's lonely, and she was doing it when I got home Wednesday. You should've seen Tracey yesterday, though, she knocked him over. Hilarious."  
   
The girl smiled at him, and it encouraged him to keep talking. "So...I asked if anybody'd walked her, and Tracey told me no. I told him I would. She was SO happy, it's like she was a fluffy puppy again." Ash paused again, glancing at the ground and back to Misty, "I went in the house, right? And...it's so weird. Like, the whole HOUSE feels weird. Same stuff in it as it had when I was little, cause I haven't been there since I was a kid, y'know?"  
   
"You still ARE a kid." Misty smirked. "A big baby."  
   
"Shut up." The smirk curled on his own face. "But yeah, anyway. Tracey I guess took this picture, and it was hanging in the hall. It's...y'know, _him_ ," He spoke the word in a tone that conveyed exactly who he meant, "And Bree - the dog - sitting on his back porch. God, you can tell Tracey feels WAY fucked up about this. He told me he felt bad because he lives there and should've seen something was up. I mean...Misty, he LIVED there and he didn't see anything wrong, how? Um...shit...but back on...where I was goin' with this. I just took her for a walk. To the park, I guess that's where he usually takes her. And I didn't let her off her leash so she..."  
   
He swallowed, and for a moment he couldn't go on. His smile was completely gone, as was any hint of laughter. He wasn't looking in Misty's direction anymore, and didn't think he could bring himself to.  
   
"...She lead me to the swing set. I took you there before, you know what they look like. She just sat down next to one and waited until I sat down, and just sorta...leaned on me. Like she'd done it before. Dogs are smart, you know that, she probably--" He nearly choked, fought it, and went on, "She probably learned that. I've seen him pass by on the sidewalk so many times with her. How many times has he sat there with her, y'know? It's just...fucked up. It's so _fucked up_." She didn't say anything in response, even though he was silent for much longer then before. After a few moments, he let out a pent up breath, hiccuping as the soda carbonation caught up to him. "...I took her back. Oak was home. We talked for a minute and I...I just got it into my head to ask if he'd take me today. He said he would. So...so that's it. I'm skipping practice to walk the dog again and...go visit the hospital."  
   
He felt her scoot closer, and absently he leaned towards her, on her shoulder. Misty shook her hand out of the sleeve of her jacket, where she'd bunched it up to keep it warm, and put it around his shoulders to squeeze the one further away from her. As heavy as his chest felt with the fresh memory he'd spewed forth, it felt good to tell her.  
   
"...You really are a baby." She murmured, finally. "A big, dumb, sweet baby."  
   
Ash managed a slanted smile. "S'at make you my baby-sitter?"  
   
"You wish." Misty shot back, with half-as much bite as she normally would have used. "...I'm not going to ask to go with you. But you have my number on your phone so...call me when you're done. Message me. Something. Tell me how it goes. If you don't, I'll get one of my sisters to drive over so I can wait on your doorstep. Then I'll punch you."  
   
"In the face?"  
   
"Would you rather I sock you in the nads?" She asked, innocently, smirking evilly as his face spread into a grimace at the idea.  
   
"Yeah...I'm gonna pass on that. Thank you, though. For listening to this stupid...stuff...I know I sound dumb."  
   
He felt Misty shrug, jostling his head where it lay on her shoulder. "I don't think so. It's...it's kind of sweet, actually. Sad, but...nice. Shows how big your heart is. You care a lot about people..." She hesitated before continuing. "Don't back out. You sound kinda flaky about going. Go. I think you'd do more then just hurt Mr. Oak's feelings by not going. It sounds like you NEED to, and it's sounded like you needed to for a couple days."  
   
Ash thought about that briefly before agreeing. "Yeah...Guess so. I'll call. Promise."  
   
"You better."  
   
The five minute warning bell rang, then, and he picked his head up off her shoulder slowly. They gathered up their trash, tossing it into the bin as they stood and shrugged on their respective bags. He hesitated, watching the other stragglers file back into the building, before lightly touching her wrist. "Hey, Misty..."  
   
"Hm?" She had both hands in her jacket pockets, eyes also absently on the other students.  
   
It was on the tip of his tongue, even if he didn't know what it was, but slipped away with a gust of wind. Ash shook his head, smiling at her. "Thanks. I'll catch you at your practice before I leave."  
   
"You got it. Let's move." The red-headed girl smiled back, heading towards the doors with Ash close behind her. He wondered, troubled, what it was he'd been about to ask her. The rest of the day would fly by, and he still wouldn't have figured it out.  
   
\--  
   
The talk with his baseball coach ended up happening during the last block of the day. Ash figured he could at least get in some unofficial practice to appease the man before skipping out on his actual practice later on. His middle aged, slightly-blading coach wasn't a tyrant or anything horrible, but he did believe in hard, nose-to-the-grindstone work when it came to his sport.  
   
Ash knew he'd be helping over-see a P.E. period at that time, and headed down that way after his English class. The junior class inside the wide, echoing gym was being forced to run the pacer exercise (something Ash hated, and therefore sympathized with) with two teachers shouting times. His coach spotted him from across the gym and stepped back from the sidelines, muttering something to the other teacher before gesturing for the boy to walk around the edge of the floor. When he was close enough, he was directed towards the double doors that marked the entrance to the locker rooms and the P.E. teachers' office.  
   
It smelled like a mixture of sweat and chlorine in the small hallway. At the other end were the doors leading to the pool, and Ash could faintly hear splashing and the occasional whistle. Misty was likely there for her free period, and he reminded himself to stop through and say hello on his way out of the office before pushing open the door to said office. As stereotypical as it was, the coach's office was decorated in various memorabilia from years past, with pictures of his previously coached teams displayed proudly in frames along a shelf, just below the ceiling tiles. It was clean and familiar, so he didn't feel all that nervous as he sank into a chair in front of the man's desk.  
   
"Sorry, didn't mean to hold you up." His head turned as his coach stepped in, the frown-lines on his face prominent as usual. "Nobody outside your team seems to realize a little exercise won't kill'em. So. Ketchum."  
   
"Coach." He replied, watching the man sink down into his own chair on the other side of the desk.  
   
"What happened, kid? Called your ma and everything, even she didn't know where you were." Right to the chase, then. Ash winced. "You were distracted Wednesday. Just because I didn't hound you about it doesn't mean I didn't notice. You flaking out on me?"  
   
As serious as he looked, Ash had been listening to him for more then a year and knew the man meant the question as a joke. He responded with a lopsided grin. "No sir."  
   
"Don't you smirk at me." The threat had no bite, however. The man pulled his school colored hat off his red, sparsely-covered head, leaning over his desk slightly. "What's going on, Ash? This isn't like you and it worries the shit out me. It ain't your grades. Had a look at those this morning. Could be better," Ash had the decency to lightly flush in embarrassment, "but nothing that'd kick you off my team. We got a game Sunday. If you aren't up for it, you gotta let me know so I can get someone else lined up."  
   
"I'm going to play that game, coach, nobody's gonna talk me out of that."  
   
"Then?"  
   
He huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair slightly. His eyes traveled over to the book shelf that held mainly awards, and he absently read a couple before looking back across the desk space. "I'm skipping out of practice today, too. I have something to do. It's important." When the man frowned, raising a brow, Ash went on. "I didn't go to the same place yesterday. I...went to Mr. Oak's place. It's right next door. I just needed to cool off a little. I wasn't planning on not coming today at first, but..."  
   
"...Oh." Abruptly, the man leaned back in his own chair, rubbing at his face. "...I get it. Oak's grandkid, right? Yep. Thought so. Didn't know you were friends."  
   
Ash squirmed in his chair. "We're not, actually..."  
   
Sensing the awkwardness in his tone, his coach shrugged. "He's not a terrible kid. Shows a lot of drive when he's out in the gym. Kid has LEGS. I asked him to try out this year, you know."  
   
That was new. Ash blinked, knowing the surprise was more then barely visible on his face. "Wait, you did...?"  
   
"Sure. He clocks one of the fastest times during trials. His throw's decent. He hit a home-run earlier this year. I thought I about shit my pants." He let out a wheezy, hoarse chuckle. The man smoked outside during every practice, something about 'kids plucking his nerves'. "He turned me down, though. Said he had things to catch up on. No idea what, since his grades are the highest I've ever fucking seen. That kid could be an all-star. No offense to you. You're my pitcher, best one I've had since...I wanna say '86? No doubts about that. But THAT kid...that kid could go places with his legs. I even said I'd put in a word to the track coach, but same answer."  
   
"He said no both times...?"  
   
"That's correct. Said the same when I caught him boxing the shit out of the sandbag in the weight room, too, 'bout boxing. Scrawny little fuck, but I'd hate to piss him off. S'why I didn't get the whole speech your principal gave. How's a kid like that get beat up? Shit. I feel a bit bad about it. He used to hide in the weight room during free block, till that old Dyke over there," He indicated the other desk, where the female P.E. teacher sat usually, "told him to take a hike. I shoulda told her to fuck off and let him stay. Now the kid's shacked up in the hospital. Guess I should've seen that, though. All that adrenaline he had, punching shit, running his ass off...nose in the books so hard they probably have his face imprinted on'em. Probably had a couple screws loose."  
   
Ash absorbed that information, chewed on it a bit in the couple seconds of silence. "...Did you ever see him swim?"  
   
"Couple times." The older man sniffed, scratching at his jawline. "Nothin' special. In any case, Ketchum." He stood, then, setting his hat back on his head. There was a whistle blowing out in the gym, followed by the female teacher shouting about changing up the event. "You're probably here to practice, right? Atta boy. Good kid. I'm not mad. Shit's got everyone worked up in knots, not surprised to be honest. Get your ass in gear for Sunday if you're saying you'll be there. So help me God if you come with a half-assed attitude, kid. I'll make you run the bases every fucking day until you've worn a six foot moat around the pitcher's mound, you got that? Good. Go on, get out."  
   
Ash obediently got to his feet, shrugging his bag back onto his shoulder. As he passed the man, who was holding open the door, he paused. "Hey...Coach Liebold...Would you still want him on if he changed his mind?"  
   
"Mm..." The man shifted his weight, staring out of his office towards the gym doors. The class beyond was now doing a sit-up test, some doing much better then others. A couple people that Ash could see weren't doing it at all, and he figured they were likely in the other teacher's blind spot. "...Dunno. Kid like that has issues. But...he'd make a hell of a batter, I think. Might be well worth it."  
   
Ash nodded, stepping away. "I'll see you Sunday, Coach."  
   
"I hope to God. Get lost, kid."  
   
\--  
   
"Hey, Little Mermaid!"  
   
The girls in the pool, taking a break from their laps, all turned to look towards where Ash was standing. He leaned on the railing on the concrete bleachers, smirking as they all giggled and began nudging a pouting girl in the middle.  
   
"I'm going to DROWN you, Ash!" She called back, finally pulling herself up on the side of the pool. He had the common sense to run to the other side of the bleachers as she sprinted in his direction, pulling her swim cap off as she went, her red hair slightly damp. Ash laughed when she finally caught up to him, catching hold of her wrists before she could do any damage. "I hate you."  
   
He mock simpered at her, eyes wide and bottom lip pouted out. "But ARIEL-- OW." He about doubled over, arms tucked in between his thighs. "THATWASDIRTY."  
   
"You're dirty." Misty shot back, smacking him with her wet swim cap. "You actually really are."  
   
"Didn't shower off yet...oh my GOD I think I lost one..."  
   
"Shut up you big baby."  
   
Once Misty had calmed down (and Ash had made sure he was still in possession of all his genitals), they reclined lazily against the bleachers. "So listen...I talked with coach. You would not BELIEVE what he told me." He drawled.  
   
The red-head listened while he told her about what his coach had said, her fingers raking through her hair in an attempt to untangle it. When he finished, she made a soft humming noise. "Huh. You're right, that IS pretty weird. I never would've pegged Gary as, y'know...athletic."  
   
"Well, yeah. He wasn't terrible at it that I remember, but it takes a lot to impress Liebold, so he must be something." He replied, folding his hands over his chest. He was laid out along one bench, flat on his back, and looking up at the girl. "He turned all three teams down, though. All three."  
   
Misty shrugged. "You know he's pretty much the top of our class, he probably has too much time devoted to actual assignments. Plus...think of how everybody treated him. You really think he'd be comfortable on a team with a bunch of people who want to hurt him?"  
   
The thought hadn't occurred to Ash, and he felt stupid for it. Frowning sourly, he replied with a bitter 'no'. "...But he'd be way more popular, especially if he was GOOD."  
   
"I don't know what to tell you, Ash. I'm sure in his head it all makes sense." She sighed, flicking the boy in the nose lightly. "You can ask him yourself, anyway. It's almost time for us to go. But you should probably shower first, you REEK."  
   
"Bahhhh...Fine." He then smirked up at her. "Come with me?~" He was promptly slapped in the face with Misty's swim cap again, and held up his hands when she pulled back for another hit. "I'm kidding, I'm KIDDING!"  
   
"Not funny. People talk enough as it is." She growled down at him, keeping her glare leveled at his face as he sat up.  
   
The dark-haired boy chuckled, facing her as he straddled the bench. "They're always gonna talk, no matter what we say. We could date for real and I think people would be disappointed about not having anything to talk about anymore."  
   
Her face flushed, and for a brief moment, Ash almost had an epiphany. Then she hit him again, and the chance of answering some of his inner questions was gone. "Like I said, don't joke about that. Now go, before you miss the chance to shower. The hospital's not going to let you in if you smell like a garbage can."  
   
"Blah blah blah, yes mom." He dodged another swing, ducking under her arm to give her a hug. "See you. And I'll remember to get in touch. I didn't forget."  
   
"Yet." She griped, squeezing him briefly in return before flailing back, gagging. "UGH, GO TAKE A BATH!"  
   
"I'm going...!" He laughed, stumbling away quickly from the angry girl. "Bye Misty!"  
   
He heard her call something that sounded vaguely threatening to his back before laughing again and ducking into the small hallway to the boys' showers, aware that his anxiety over the day ahead had returned twofold. He would have much rather stayed with her indefinitely, even if she was irritated with him, then proceed with the end of the day.  
   
The showers were empty when he entered them, the muted sounds of both the gym and the pool coming from either side, though the pool side was more muted due to the girls' locker room and showers being between the boys' and the actual pool. He headed to his locker, fiddling with the dial and absently chewing his lip. He missed the last number three times, and frustratedly kicked at the bottom of the locker before managing to twirl the right numbers.  
   
It wasn't until he was undressed and in the shower stall, reaching for the knob to turn on the water, that he realized his fingers were twitching and shaking. Uttering a snarl of frustration, he harshly twisted the knob to near-burning temperatures, gripping his upper arms as the at-first cold water hit his head and shoulders. There was nothing to be this nervous or upset about. He was just going to visit someone in the hospital. That was all.  
   
Except that wasn't all. Gary Oak hated him, probably wouldn't want to see him, would most likely yell at him to leave. He was going to go visit someone who had tried to commit suicide, under the tiny, minuscule hope that maybe he could convince the other boy--  
   
Of what? What the hell was Ash trying to convince Gary of? More importantly, why was he trying to convince HIMSELF that he had the ability to do it?  
   
The five minute warning bell rang, and he cursed, hurriedly washing the suds from his hair and cutting off the water. He was nearly soaking wet still as he changed into the change of clothes that he'd stored in his locker, and knew that the instant the cold November air hit his body he would regret not drying off properly. He all but sprinted across the school to the front entrance, just catching his bus before it rattled away. May Maple was alone in her seat that afternoon, and he avoided her eyes as he sat in his usual seat. The wheels in her head were probably in overdrive, but he didn't care. He was far too concerned with the squirming ball of anxiousness in his stomach.  
   
\--  
   
The last science class in Mr. Oak's lab let out during seventh block, so Tracey was already at the door when Ash arrived, Bree's leash in hand. The German Shepard was much tamer upon first seeing him, as opposed to the day before, though it appeared she had given Tracey the same treatment as she'd give him Thursday.  
   
"Take her, PLEASE." He practically whined, handing over the dog's leash as Bree trotted innocently down onto the walkway. "She's been driving me crazy. I swear she's almost chimp-level smart. Samuel told her yesterday that you'd walk her today, and ever since I got home she's been constantly whining at the door. She even dragged her leash over. Never seen her do that, even when Gary walked her."  
   
Ash chuckled as the animal nudged his wrist, his hand immediately twitching to pet her ears. "Smarter then some other people I know. Come on, girl, let's go. Be back in a bit, Tracey."  
   
"Take your time. Mr. Oak will be back in about half an hour."  
   
"Kay...Oh, Trace?! Can I let her run in the park?!" He called, already being marched down the walkway to the sidewalk.  
   
"Should be fine!" The man called, watching as Bree continued to drag Ash along. "Just call for her when you're ready to go, she'll come right back!"  
   
Ash only managed a wave before jogging to catch up with the eager dog. As before, she almost led HIM instead of the other way around, pausing at crosswalks along the way. It was a bit chillier then before, and Ash took a second to zip up his jacket, switching exposed hands from which the leash dangled at regular intervals to keep one from getting too cold.  
   
When they reached the park and the dog had done her business, he grinned and knelt, unclipping her leash. Like a shot, Bree took off, stopping abruptly to roll in the grass and fallen leaves in the center of the open area. As he made to walk to her, she bolted at him, jumping up and down around his sides until he finally gave in with a laugh and ran further onto the park ground. The leash he bundled in his pocket, hands reaching down near the edge of the park for a stick that he tossed out as far as he could. The big dog barked loudly, chasing after it, and Ash just kept laughing. He really, REALLY needed a dog, much as he loved Pika.  
   
Bree's antics kept them there far past when they'd left the day before, and by the time both were tuckered out enough to leave, the street lights had flickered to life as the last rays of the sun disappeared. Both were flopped in the grass, the dog sprawled across Ash's lap, and for a moment he didn't want to go back. Going back to the Oaks' home meant going to the hospital, and that wasn't nearly as fun as playing with Bree.  
   
Bree, however, did seem to want to go, or maybe she knew about his arrangements with Sam Oak. Hadn't he told Tracey earlier that she was smart? Ash wouldn't have put it past her. In either case, she sat up, nudging him with her cold, wet nose, until he clipped her leash back on. The dog only gave him a few seconds to stand up before she was walking back home, leading Ash behind her. It was amusing, really, and Ash secretly hoped this wouldn't be the last time he could walk her.  
   
He was halfway up the walk to the Oaks' front door when his teacher pulled it open, beaming at the pair of them. Despite his nervousness, Ash couldn't help but smile back: the elderly man looked a combination of relieved and elated to see them, and it hardly mattered if it was about seeing them back after waiting so long or that Ash had kept his promise.  
   
"There you are. Kept him long, did you? You silly girl..." The man crouched down gingerly, ruffling Bree's ears and neck ruff before unclipping her. "Go on, off with you. I think Tracey has some extra chicken..." The suggestion of 'chicken' had the dog's ears standing upright, and she quickly ran to the kitchen. Ash snickered as Tracey began to exasperatedly address her, puzzled at first when the old man stepped outside and closed the door. "I hope you don't mind if we leave now...I told the staff I'd be back before eight, and they're agreeing to let us both stay a little past normal hours."  
   
"...Oh...! Sorry, I didn't mean to stay out late..." He followed the old man as he headed to the driveway, the lights for the tiny eco-car flashing a couple times as it was unlocked, then nearly blinding him as the car started on its own.  
   
The teacher was waving a hand at him, shaking his head. "Oh no, no, it's quite all right, Ash. I trust you wouldn't let anything happen to the lovely Briana, or," He chuckled, popping open the driver's side door, "perhaps it should be the other way around. That is certainly one of the most intelligent canines I've ever encountered. I take it she ran you through the park?"  
   
Ash nodded, ducking into the car and stuffing his bag down to where his feet were settled. "H'yeah. Was actually pretty fun. I took a couple pictures. Did you know she goes down that slide if you let her climb up?"  
   
"That I did. That was something she apparently started doing a couple years or so ago. Tickled us all pink once we found out, I had to go for myself and see it when Gary told me." Samuel replied, twisting in his seat as he backed the car out of the driveway. He chuckled, shifting gears and finally driving along down the street. "You should show them to him, he's been asking about her."  
   
Ash's intestines gave a particularly nasty jerk, but he maintained a small smile. "I bet. I want a dog like her, but mom'll never let me."  
   
"Oh, don't be fooled. Your mother does love creatures big and small, just as you do." His teacher glanced in his direction, a wily smirk on his face. "She just doesn't enjoy cleaning up after them. Honestly, I was shocked when she told me she'd bought you a ferret, of all things. How is your little friend, by the way?"  
   
"He's all right. I'm still waiting for the next time she's out for a few hours so I can let him play in the rest of the house."  
   
That seemed to strike a chord with the man, and he chuckled. The silence went from comfortable to stifling within seconds, however, and Ash blamed it on how close they were getting to the hospital. At the edge of town, Mr. Oak turned onto the highway, and finally broke the silence. "You're rather quiet. Everything go all right, today?"  
   
Something about how he said it made Ash frown. "...Yeah." A pause, and Ash blurted: "Did you talk to Coach Liebold?"  
   
"Mm. Briefly. He called me the previous night after talking to your mother." He admitted, quietly. "Wanted to know where you were and if I'd seen you. I told him what Tracey had told me, seemed to be sufficient for him. The man is more then crass, I don't understand how the school board hasn't fired him for his language on school grounds...but he cares about our students."  
   
The boy felt a bit sour, knowing his teachers had talked about him, but knew it was stupid to worry about it. They were teachers, they had to talk to one another. Just...not over something like that. He crossed his arms, leaning against the car door. "...Did he ever tell you that he wanted Gary on our team...?"  
   
Samuel smiled faintly, snorting. "Multiple times. The first time I heard of it was from him, actually. Blew into my classroom after the final bell, irritated as jay. Really got him quite upset, Gary turning him down. To be honest, I was a little, myself." His expression turned to one of discomfort. "I asked Gary why he didn't want to play, and he told me he had other things to worry about. 'But lad', I said, 'a little sport wouldn't hurt'. Wouldn't have a word of it. I suppose I should be happy, though. He has his brain in the right place."  
   
"Coach was talking about it today...he sounded like he really wanted Gary on the team."  
   
"Oh, I've no doubts." The old man admitted, glancing at Ash briefly. "And he was equally perplexed when Gary wouldn't join other sports based on his recommendation. Boy never broke his resolve...I'm sure he'd like to, though. I don't...know what's holding him back."  
   
Ash had a fairly decent idea of what that was, based on his earlier conversation with Misty, but held his tongue.  
   
"...Might I ask why you brought that up?"  
   
It was soft, and Ash nearly missed it entirely. He wished he had. Chewing his lip, he shrugged. "Just...talking about Coach. He brought it up today when I went in to tell him I wouldn't be at practice today. I just...didn't have any idea, so it was interesting, I guess."  
   
"I see..."  
   
That was where their conversation dropped off, with no other words up until a good twenty minutes later, when the hospital came into view. It was a ways out of town in an area the new interstate, built a good seven years or so ago, had run through. It was easily the largest hospital around, though not the closest. In the dark, most of the rooftops were lit up in white and red lights, and the parking lots surrounding it were brightly illuminated as well.  
   
"I'll go in first." His teacher finally spoke, pulling into a visitors lot close to the emergency room entrance. "Don't worry if someone tries to chase you off: I'll make sure someone close knows you're allowed to stay."  
   
"Okay..." It was all Ash could think of to say. He wanted to stay right there in the car, like a child on an errand with their mother, and wait until the man was finished. Instead, he climbed out of the car with his bag in tow. There was no point in not starting on homework while he was there. "I told mom I'd be here, too. Just in case she--"  
   
"I spoke with her while you were out with the pup, not to worry." The man cut in, waiting for the door to close before walking with Ash up to the entrance.  
   
Most people Ash knew hated hospitals. Too sterile smelling, too sterile _looking_ , full of terrible sounds. He didn't hate them, but they were far from places he wanted to spend his Friday nights at. This one in particular - thank goodness - wasn't terribly crowded as they entered. The woman behind the glass partition they stepped up to wrote them out two sticker badges, each with a small note about staying past the normal visitor hours. She then directed them through a door with a buzzer, and Ash trusted his teacher to lead as the rest of her words were lost on him. Every step they took made him feel more and more jumpy, to the point where he was sure the old man would notice and ask him about it. He didn't however, although he did comment about Ash's fidgeting as they waited for an elevator.  
   
The ICU where Gary was staying was up on the fifth floor and just past a set of huge doors. The nurse at the desk in front of the doors seemed pleasant enough, and when Mr. Oak explained the notes on their badges, she happily waved them through. The doors opened, one out, one in, and they passed through. He couldn't help but look back as they closed, trapping them in with the _beeping_.  
   
The beeping noise was coming from every room in this ward, comprised of three wings angled like a triangle. The rooms had glass fronts with sliding doors of the same make, curtains usually drawn just after the doors. Where they weren't, however, Ash could peer in and see the large, single person rooms beyond. Each one looked staunchly clean, but dismal all the same. The people in them were either in huge hospital beds, hooked up to so many tubes and monitors it made his head spin, or relatives who looked tired and unhappy. Occasionally, he'd see one of the patients awake, even more rarely surrounded by less equipment, and one of them even waved to them as they walked by.  
   
The old man stopped at a small room at the angle between two of the wings, where the floor went from tile to carpet. There were a few more tired and unhappy relatives seated in various pastel colored chairs reading magazines, watching television, or sleeping. "Stay here for a few moments. I'll go tell him that I'm back, swing back to get you, and leave you there. I have to speak with the nurses about a few things while I'm here."  
   
Ash could only nod, afraid his tongue had been swallowed, and watched him walk away for a few moments. When he stepped into a room a good two thirds down the wing, Ash turned away to sink into a chair. He didn't know how long a few moments would be. Determined to try and get some of his nerves off the defensive, the boy began to rummage in his bag, withdrawing his slightly curled and bent math notebook along with the corresponding textbook. His shoulders, while hunched as he worked on his lap, remained tense. Half of him was convinced he would hear angry yelling down the hall from where his teacher had stepped in. While he did hear noises (some of which WERE rather unpleasant; he wasn't sure the one from his left had been heavy coughing or plain choking) none of them seemed to be coming from that far down the hallway.  
   
He didn't know how long he'd been looking down at his book, at the same problem, when a pair of shoes appeared on the floor in front of his bag. Looking up confirmed it was his elderly neighbor. The man didn't seem upset, so Ash took that as good news and packed up his things without needing to be asked.  
   
"I told him you were here." Samuel was saying as Ash stood up, apparently not catching the sudden fumble as Ash's grip on his backpack slipped, "And he's expecting you. I'm not sure how long my visit with his doctor will be..."  
   
The un-said worry hung there between them, and did nothing for Ash's anxiety as they walked closer and closer to the door he'd seen the old man duck into before. He was sure time slowed, but before he knew it, they were standing outside of the open glass doorway. The curtain was drawn, but the lights inside were on. No noise outside of what Ash was sure was a heart monitor was coming from beyond that far-too-cheery pastel-colored curtain. He wasn't aware of how hard he was clenching his fist until Mr. Oak touched his shoulder. Uncurling his fingers slightly hurt, and glancing down saw they'd bitten crescent moons into his palms.  
   
"I'll be just down the hall, there." He followed the man's pointing finger to a nurse's station, where a middle aged man in a long white coat was watching. The doctor waved, and Ash hesitantly waved back as Samuel's hand left his shoulder. "I'll see you shortly."  
   
Then he was walking away. Ash wanted to call out to him, walk with him, anything other then walk forward. Still, he was aware that Gary could likely hear him...or NOT hear him. Every second he stood there, unmoving, was more and more awkward. Eventually, he steeled himself, taking in a deep breath, before walking forward and lightly brushing past the curtain.  
   
The room inside was just like the others Ash had seen; pristine surfaces, mostly done in white, with a wall full of cabinets on the opposite side of the bed. There was another curtain on the opposite side, used to block off the area where the toilet and sink were for patient use, as well as keep out the sun should one wish it. It was half closed, and Ash could see a large, plush chair in the corner. There weren't many machines or monitors crowding the bed, which was a relief. His eyes caught a flash of bright green, bringing them back to the bed itself, and the person sitting up in it. Gary Oak was staring at him.  
   
For a moment, they only stared. Ash knew he looked like a deer in the headlights, and felt like he was being x-rayed. Gary looked, surprisingly, a bit similar. His face was pale, paler then Ash remembered, and there were dark circles beginning to show under his eyes. His hair was auburn, as it always had been, and it looked a bit limp at the moment. The paper gown was nowhere to be seen; instead, he had apparently been allowed to wear a tee-shirt. A book was open on his lap, along with a notebook-- was that _homework_?  
   
"You're doing homework...?"  
   
For a moment, Gary didn't answer. His fingers, which Ash saw were frozen on a pen hovering over the lined paper, wiggled the writing instrument a couple times.  
   
"...I guess?" Was the answer, and Ash could've fallen over with relief at the lack of malice in it. It was a short lived moment, however, because Gary flipped the book closed and tossed his pen carelessly down on the notebook. "Wow. So Gramps wasn't kidding. To what do I owe the honor of the great Ash Ketchup to?"  
   
"Ketchum." Ash blurted, out of habit, feeling his brows beginning to furrow together. "What're you talking about?"  
   
His neighbor laughed humorlessly, laying back against the head of the bed. It was inclined up as far as it probably would go, so he looked a bit sulky and moody when he was settled there. "Don't play stupid. You're no good at acting out what you're already like. What are you doing here?"  
   
The nervousness was completely gone, replaced with tense irritation. Of course. How could Ash have expected anything less? "What's it look like? You're supposed to be the one with straight A's."  
   
"Really fucking cute." Gary bit out, looking the other boy up and down in a way Ash found insulting, as if Gary were disgusted and amused with him. "Excuse me if I'm not falling all over myself to tell you how funny that is. I'll ask you again: what. The fuck. Are you. Doing. Here?"  
   
"Visiting." Ash forced himself to reply, further forcing himself not to grit his teeth when he said it.  
   
"Why?"  
   
"Because I want to? Why else? Look," Ash let his arms slap against his sides, suddenly fatigued with the situation. "I didn't come here to pick a fight with you. Stop being a douchebag."  
   
"Oh, I'm sorry, we're friends now?" Gary paused, narrowing his eyes in a way that told Ash he was about to be in for it. "...That's it, isn't it? No wonder Gramps was so excited to tell me you were here, he thinks you're my friend. My _friend_. He's getting senile already."  
   
"Don't say shit like that." He yanked the curtain closed behind him, stalking forward a little. "He's worried about you."  
   
"Oh _fuck off_." Gary hissed, keeping his leer on Ash's own. "He's as worried as YOU are. You wanna know what dear old Grandpa Oak is worried about? His _career_. Doesn't look all that fantastic if your only grandson fucks off and dies, does it?"  
   
Ash gaped. He was within grabbing distance of the railing on the bed, and wanted to grip it in his fist, but couldn't move out of pure disgust. "What the FUCK, Gary...?! What the fuck-- just...WHAT THE FUCK--?!"  
   
"You don't know jack-fucking-SHIT, Ash. You're used to Mr. Samuel Oak who teaches your cute little biology lab, not the guy who lives with me. You don't know _dick_ , and I have no idea why YOU - of ALL people - decided to pony up with him and scurry in here. You wanna take a picture or something, show all your little buddies? Here-" He spread his arms out, revealing the several IVs stuck in them, as well as bruising and puncture marks where others had been. It made Ash sick, and he looked away. "What, what's the matter? Scared? Suicide isn't contagious, Ashy-Boy."  
   
Ash hated that nickname. It was _cute_ and _demeaning_ and so _stupid-sounding_. He looked back, finally, relieved to see Gary had his arms crossed once again. "I know it's not. I didn't come here to...do whatever it is you think I'm here to do. Why would I want to show my friends this?" He gestured around the room weakly, other hand in his pocket. "And I didn't come here to fuck with you. I just wanted to see if you were okay."  
   
"Okay? Oh my god, you really ARE retarded."  
   
"You know what I mean." Desperate to turn the conversation, Ash bit his tongue and switched topics. "Bree misses you." When Gary's cold smirk dropped, Ash took it as a good sign. "I've been walking her--"  
   
"You what...?!" This was, apparently, not appreciated. "Wait, you went in my HOUSE?!"  
   
"Not on purpose...!" He waved his hands, trying to back-pedal. "Tracey had his hands full yesterday and she knocked him over so I asked if anyone walked her because I know YOU do--"  
   
"That doesn't give you any right to touch my dog." Gary snarled.  
   
Something in Ash snapped. Maybe it was remembering the way Bree had run around happily in the park, how she whined at the fence, or how him walking her made both Tracey and his teacher slightly happier. "Why? I was just doing what you usually do. I was helping take care of her until you were home, because she's LONELY and she MISSES YOU, you fucking jackass."  
   
"Because in case you haven't noticed, I hate your fucking guts." Gary shot back, sneering when Ash made a noise of frustration. "I don't need my dog in love with your stupid ass just like everyone else, thank you."  
   
"WHAT?!"  
   
"That's enough."  
   
The voice at the door made them both look up. The curtain was pushed aside, admitting both Gary's grandfather and the doctor he'd gone to speak with. Neither looked pleased, although Samuel looked marketably more furious and tired. At once, Ash's face flushed, and he felt guilty. His teacher stalked towards them, but around Ash to face Gary, who stared defiantly up at him in return.  
   
"Civil. I asked you to be CIVIL. Instead we have to come rushing down the hall because you can't mind your tongue for five seconds--"  
   
"Shut up." Came Gary's biting reply, his voice now sounding less controlled. "You seriously thought letting HIM in here was going to, what, CURE me?! HIM?!"  
   
"I thought it would help SOMETHING, I didn't think you would immediately resort to being insufferable!"  
   
Ash was astonished, witnessing the pair argue with one another. It was nothing he'd EVER seen them do...although, to be fair, he didn't see them interact much in his daily life at all. Most shockingly was just how _angry_ the older Oak seemed.  
   
Gary was speaking again. "Oh, yeah, because you don't think I'm 'insufferable' on a regular basis."  
   
The older man sputtered before making a distinctly frustrated and enraged noise. "That is NOT true...! Why do you insist on--"  
   
"If you would, please." Attention turned to the middle-aged man in the room, who stepped forward. He seemed as though he'd hit his patience level for this argument, and Ash couldn't blame him. The whole situation left a bad taste in his mouth, and he was now a mix between angry and sympathetic for both Oaks. "I have other patients on this floor, and it is after normal hours."  
   
Samuel huffed, looking abashed, and nodded. "I apologize..."  
   
"Apology or not, I think it's time you both leave." The doctor cut in, narrowing his eyes slightly in Ash's direction. "And I would advise that any other visitors be approved by your grandson, sir, as to avoid this situation in the future."  
   
Ash felt like he'd been slapped, and stared at his feet before glancing up at Gary. The boy wouldn't look at him, and seemed...upset? Not in angry sense. It made the dark-haired boy feel confused, and he felt his mouth work a couple times as his teacher spoke to the doctor.  
   
"...I'm sorry."  
   
That took Ash's mood and flipped it seven ways to Sunday. He once again let his mouth hang open just slightly, staring at the other boy who'd muttered the apology.  
   
Gary glanced at him just barely before sighing and rolling his shoulders. "I believe you. You're not somebody who goes looking for fights, I get it. Just...leave me alone. We're not friends. You showed up because of Tuesday, right?"  
   
Ash thought for a moment. The hand. The gurney. "...Sort of. Well, mostly, but..." He couldn't think of how to word what he felt, just why he was there to begin with. No, they hadn't been friends for some time, but... "I don't hate you. I keep thinking about it...and everything feels weird. I...thought if I came here I'd...feel better, I guess."  
   
"Do you?" The other boy asked, quietly.  
   
"...Yeah...no--...It's hard to explain." Ash hesitated, glancing at the two adults as they continued to talk. His teacher was still being chastised for his lack in judgment. "I guess me coming here wasn't the best idea or anything...but I'm glad I got to see you?"  
   
Gary's expression clearly indicated he was questioning the validity of that statement. "...Yeah. Probably wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done. But...not the dumbest. Morbid curiosity?"  
   
"Huh?"  
   
"Fascination with anything gory or horrific." The auburn-haired boy immediately explained. "Usually when it's used, it means the person has a weird fascination with dead things."  
   
"Well...you're not dead."  
   
"No."  
   
"So I guess...no?"  
   
"I guess that's better then if your answer were 'yes', though I'm not sure by what margin..." Gary reached down to open up the textbook in his lap, thumbing through the pages to find where he'd closed it previously. "Well, now that I know Gramps is telling the truth if he says you're here for me, I guess I won't be so surprised to see you next time."  
   
Ash didn't catch the meaning right off the bat, although to his credit it didn't take more then a few seconds. "Do you want me to come back?"  
   
Gary hesitated. An odd expression clouded his face, one Ash couldn't recall seeing on the other's face before, like a mixture of fear and something a bit like Bree when she was left outside in the rain. "...I'm not expecting you to."  
   
"...I have a game Sunday." The dark-haired boy shifted his weight slightly to his other foot, watching the strange expression on Gary's face finally fade away, "I'll be here tomorrow, though. Sound okay?"  
   
"Whatever you want." Was the reply, accompanied by a shrug. Any worry that had presented itself before was now gone from Gary's features. "Even if I wanted to, I doubt I could stop you. Don't make me regret it." He paused, writing out a small sentence on the notebook. "See if you can hit up Whitney's when you're out on Bree's walk tomorrow. I'll pay you back if you get her a cup of peanut-butter ice cream."  
   
The idea of heading to the small dairy-based store for something cold like ice cream in the middle of November wasn't all that appealing, normally. The thought of Bree lapping up ice cream, however, was too good not to smile about. Which he did. "I thought her favorite was vanilla."  
   
"Yeah, well, APPARENTLY dogs have this thing for peanut-butter. It's her favorite thing. I give it to her once in a while, but I...sort of owe her, this time." The other boy winced, and Ash could tell he felt guilty regarding his beloved pooch. "...How's she doing?"  
   
In response, Ash held up a finger, digging into his jeans pocket for his phone. By no means did he have the newest and best phone on the market, but it still had a decent camera. He flicked through a couple screens before turning the cellphone on its side and proudly displaying the screen to Gary, who leaned in to see. Ash was happy to see the other boy smirk at the picture of the German Shepard laying on her belly, halfway down the green plastic slide in the park. "She's okay. I think she's glad to get out of the house."  
   
"I bet." Gary murmured, reaching up and swiping the screen without asking Ash beforehand. The next picture, thankfully, was just of the dog with a stick in her mouth, Ash's cap hanging from one end. "...Thank you. I don't know how you ended up taking care of her, but thanks. Honestly, at least I know you can handle her."  
   
This visit was just full of surprises. Ash was going to lose his jaw if this continued. Gary had gone years without saying anything remotely pleasant to him. Not only had he apologized, but he had _thanked_ Ash for something.  
   
Gary seemed to notice his lack of response and glanced over the phone to his face, pulling his hand away. "You better get out of here. If I don't see you tomorrow..." He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm still not expecting it. Do whatever."  
   
The switch back to being snarky was also astonishing, but Ash was too wrapped up in the previous behavior from his neighbor to care. He stuck his phone back into his back pocket, half grinning even when Gary rolled his eyes. "I'll be back for you to yell at me again."  
   
"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out." Was the bored-sounding retort.  
   
Ash hadn't even noticed that the room was otherwise quiet until he turned his attention away from the other boy and saw both his teacher and the doctor eyeballing them curiously. He felt his face flushing, though he knew he really had nothing to be embarrassed about. With a wave (met by an extended finger that his mother would have made several angry noises about) to Gary, he scurried out from under the adults' gaze to the hallway.  
   
The dreaded Friday had gone much better then he'd thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten days later, and this one by far is likely the biggest chapter of them all. So far. That's not to say later ones will never measure up.
> 
> Look, there's Gary. I promised he was coming, and there he is. His personality's a bit all over the place, have you noticed? All in due time, friends. On the plus side, though the meeting could have gone MUCH better, at least there's some hope of improvement.
> 
> I would also like to brag a little about Misty and the dynamic between her and Ash. I used to hate Misty. Like a lot. Because I was a young weeaboo who first wanted Ash all to myself. I've changed since then, and I really enjoy writing her. On the other note, I'm glad I haven't managed to let my immense hatred of anime!Serena kill off her character. May's not been treated too well, and apologize a bit for that for those that may like her character, but I was never really fond of her and I'm not likely to change much about her. Yet. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. I've enjoyed reading comments on this story so far, and they've helped me tweak a couple things for the future.
> 
> Gary's birthday is, by the way, November 22nd. I think it's safe to bet that you can expect chapter 4 by or on that day. Happy Birthday you little shit.


	4. Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the doors might be closed. Some of them might be locked. This one is open, though. Shouldn't you see what's inside?

 

The night that followed was the first in several days where Ash was free of anything remotely nightmare-ish. In fact, the rest of the time between leaving the hospital and falling into bed was relatively blissful. Half of his lifted mood had to do with finally getting the event he'd dreaded out of the way, banishing the nervousness and anxiousness from his system. The other half, however, was due to the way things had gone.

 

Ash was proud of himself. Once he'd left Gary's room, he'd propped the wall up with his shoulders across the hall, tugging his phone free of his pocket. His thumbs almost mashed the keyboard into oblivion in his haste to tell Misty what had just happened. Vaguely, he could hear the Oaks speaking in low voices to the doctor, but he was too happy to want to be nosy.

 

Misty had not replied by the time his teacher emerged, the lights beyond the curtain clicking off as the doctor also left. Many of the other rooms in the ward appeared to be under the same conditions, and the hallway lights seemed dimmer. Samuel didn't say anything to Ash at first as they finally left first the ward, then the hospital entirely. It was when they were trekking across the parking lot that he broke the silence.

 

"I cannot tell you how surprised I am." The elderly man murmured, pausing as a car drove in front of them slowly. "Due to how I cannot put it into words."

 

"Is that good...?" Ash blurted, breaking free from his good mood to show a bit of his previous apprehension.

 

The tension left his shoulders the moment the older man chuckled. "My dear boy, I don't think you know just how lovely that was to witness. I cannot thank you enough. I'm not sure what it was about you that finally got him to do something other then lash out, but I would certainly like for you to attempt to do it again tomorrow."

 

"I said I was gonna." He shielded his eyes from the car headlights as it burst to life with a small chirping noise. "Pretty sure if I didn't go, he'd find me and kick my-- he'd be mad."

 

"He would." Samuel admitted. "That he would."

 

Ash didn't remember most of what they spoke about on the way home. Trivial things. They didn't matter all that much. What did was the upbeat way his teacher went about it, and his general cheerfulness. It was worth all the anxiety Ash had gone through the past day or so, to see the man look as happy as he did. He wasn't sure which one of them was more eager to get inside their respective homes to talk about what had transpired: Ash almost ran across the lawns, waving behind himself, while his teacher fumbled for his house key while trying to wave back.

 

It was at that point that his phone vibrated in his pocket, and while the older man finally disappeared inside the Oaks' home, Ash paused on the doorstep to his own, white light bathing his face as he powered up the screen of his phone.

 

'hahaha wow. thats gr8 :) i can c the stupid look on ur face from here.'

 

The red-head's message sparked something in his head, and when he pushed open the door he had a question already on his lips.

 

"Mom? You okay if Misty comes over?"

 

The light for the kitchen was, of course, on. Dinner had long since been made, though the smells from it lingered in the air of the house pleasantly. His stomach began growling; hunger hit him just then, at full force. Hurriedly, the boy toed his shoes off beside the door, catching the lock before heading towards the lighted room.

 

The brunette woman was leaning gently against the counter, a mug of tea in her hands as she watched the evening news. The tiny television on the counter was rather old, likely from when she was a teenager, but somehow always had a clear picture. His mother immediately looked up when he entered, blinking. "...Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I even heard the door open...what did you say?"

 

He grinned at her, dropping his backpack on the table. "D'you mind if Misty comes over?"

 

The woman pursed her lips. She and Misty got along well, and usually she didn't mind the girl visiting. She was, however, starting to get a bit odd whenever the mention of the girl possibly staying overnight was brought up. Ash knew exactly why that was. "...I don't see why not. But only if you go up and make sure the spare bed is spread up nicely. The last time she came over you apparently let Pika play on my good spare comforter."

 

"I dunno what you're talking about." Ash professed, innocently. He leaned up against the counter next to her, thumbs again working holes into his phone's keyboard. The woman was quiet, waiting for him to talk, and he listened to the tiny voices from the television behind him talk about one Kardashian or another. His phone slid back into one piece, and he set it gently on the counter to one side of him. "...So."

 

"Mm?" Was her response, eyes on the celebrity drama but not actually watching it.

 

"It went good."

 

"I thought as much. You look pretty excited." Her mouth curled upwards a little before she sipped at her mug. "Everything really went well?"

 

"H'yeah. Well, not at first. But it ended good. I'm gonna go back tomorrow."

 

His mother made a happy little noise, a bit like a small squeal and a coo, one hand reaching out to push his hat off his head and ruffle his hair. "Get out of town...! Good for you, honey, I'm glad. I suppose Sam will be in a much better mood as well." He pushed her hand away with an annoyed sound, reaching up to put his hat back on the right way while the woman giggled. "So what happened, then?"

 

"Uh...well, we argued a little, first. He's still kinda mean." Ash admitted, wriggling the brim of his cap until it was sitting just the way he wanted it to sit. "I guess we were kinda loud, because his grandpa and this doctor came in and chewed us out a little. But then he said he was sorry...he said we weren't friends but it didn't go too bad. Gary's the one who kinda hinted he wanted me to come back. He's uh...I dunno. His mood's kinda everywhere. But yeah. He didn't kill me. So...plus?"

 

His mother again laughed a little, setting aside her now empty mug. "I wasn't expecting to hear anything like that when you came home. What time would you like me to take you tomorrow?"

 

"Huh? Uh...I dunno. I kinda figured his grandpa would take me again..."

 

"That's not really fair on Samuel." His mother explained, switching off the television and carrying her mug to the sink. "And I believe he has things to do early in the day. I'll drive you up."

 

"Okay. Thanks, mom. Wish I could drive..." He hinted, wistfully.

 

"You have Driver's Education later this year, don't you start that with me again." She warned in reply, frowning over her shoulder at him. "I don't care if some of the other boys on your team have parents who let them 'practice': we do things legally in this house."

 

He snickered, finally padding across the kitchen to where the microwave was. Peeking inside showed that his mother had indeed fixed and left him a plate. "I'm kidding, mom, I won't steal the car."

 

"Trust me, the least of your worries would be the police, at that point." Her threat carried over the beeping of the microwave as he punched in a few numbers. She slid a large bowl across the counter, which he grabbed with his hand absently, followed by a pack of popcorn. "Try not to eat too much of the pie in the fridge, please. I think it'd be nice to take a piece up with us the hospital tomorrow. I can't remember if he's allergic to anything or not..."

 

"He's not." Ash confirmed, peeling the plastic wrap off the popcorn bag and switching it out witht he plate that had been resting in the microwave. "It's Ritchie who's got the food allergy, mom."

 

"That's right...no wheat." She murmured to herself, setting the mug back in its cabinet. There were a series of knocks on the door, and she wiped her hands hurriedly on a towel hanging on the oven handle. "That'll be Misty. I'll get the door for her and then I'll be going to bed...please try to keep down the noise. Doors open, Ash."

 

"Yes mom." He cringed at the reminder of the rule, cheeks coloring. "Y'know, we're not like that."

 

"You're a young man in high-school. A mother can never be too careful." Was her reply, something Ash knew by heart and mouthed along with her, back to the woman. "See you in the morning, mom."

 

"Good night~"

 

He started wolfing down his food - his mother's Sheppard's pie - listening to his mother bustle away to the foyer to open the front door, and then to the sounds of her and his friend talking together. Misty's sneakers were approaching by the time the popcorn in the microwave began to pop.

 

"Don't choke yourself or anything."

 

He nearly did at her words. The girl set her own bag on the counter, pulling off her jacket. "You got here quick." He mumbled, hurriedly wiping the corner of his mouth where a bit of pastry was stuck to it. "What'd you do, speed here?"

 

"My sister picked me up from practice and insisted we go look at some new selection of dresses. Homecoming dresses." She wrinkled her nose, sitting on the counter beside where he was eating. Ash's mother hated that, and Ash smirked as he thought of her irritated face if she happened to see the girl on her nice clean counter. "I guess she thinks I care about something that's happening next month already. Thank GOD you said something: she was about to drag me off to the shoe store next."

 

"You sure you're a girl?" Ash asked her, slyly, and held up his fork as a defense when she went to punch him in the shoulder. "Joking, joking. How can she think about Homecoming already? She's not even in high-school."

 

"That's my family for you." The girl sighed, shrugging. She pulled the bag from the microwave once it went off, shaking it slightly before tearing it open and dumping the yellowy fluff into the bowl Ash's mother had left. "Can I steal a few bites of that? We didn't even eat while we were out."

 

"There might be more in the fridge if you want it." Ash offered, jerking his head towards the appliance in question. "If you don't eat it, I'm gonna."

 

Misty rolled her eyes, sliding off the counter and pulling open the fridge. Ash glanced over casually, watching her as she walked. Legs, the girl was all legs. He had to admit it was rather attractive. Her short hair was pulled up in a scruffy pony-tail at the side of her head, and she was wearing a baggy school sweatshirt. She was so tom-boyish...

 

At once, her fingers were clicking in his face, and he was startled out of whatever daze he'd been in. "Oh, good, you're still alive."

 

"Ha ha." He shoved another forkful of food in his mouth, scraping his plate for the dregs before dumping it into the dishwasher. "Speaking of alive, I've been working on my Sub-Zero."

 

"Okay, if you really called me over just to kick your ass, that's fine with me." Misty innocently replied, smirking as Ash frowned at her. "I win, you swim ten laps on Monday. You win, I'll run the bases ten times in just my swim suit."

 

"Hope you're ready to freeze your ass off."

 

\--

 

"Hope you have a pair of trunks ready on Monday."

 

Ash tossed the controller down out of frustration, groaning. "Are you KIDDING me? How?!"

 

The girl next to him waggled the controller in her own hands happily, her character's victory displayed for the fifteenth time on the screen. "Best sixteen out of thirty, Ash?~" She asked, feigning cuteness. When he shoved at her, she laughed. "You just suck at it! You suck at video games in general."

 

"Do not."

 

"Calculator Snake doesn't count." His friend scathingly retorted. Her free hand reached over, picking up the long, furry body that was Pika from Ash's shoulder. The critter immediately began to kiss all over her fingers before running up her sweater sleeve to her shoulder.

 

"Traitor." Ash growled at it. Pika only rolled onto its back, twitching happily as Misty scratched its belly. With a huff, the boy cut off the machine, taking out the old cartridge and putting it back on a shelf under the television. He had moved Pika downstairs secretly, hoping his mother wouldn't come down at any point and discover he had the creature out of his bedroom. The bowl of popcorn kernels was in front of his and Misty's knees, and they'd been feeding the greasy unpopped kernels to the ferret absently...in between Misty absolutely demolishing Ash via the video game, of course.

 

He stretched back, now. They were seated on the floor, so when his arms came back, they settled on the couch cushions behind them. Despite his fantastic losing streak to his female friend, the warm feeling hadn't left, and he found himself grinning in spite of himself. Misty noticed, and she raised a brow. He only mirrored the gesture, smirking wider when she frowned.

 

"Weirdo."

 

He laughed, leaning his head back so that it was also pressed against the couch cushions. "Sorry. I feel high. Not that I know what that's like."

 

"You act high, sometimes." Misty grumbled, winding up the cord for her controller. She started on Ash's own, glancing up at him. Her expression softened. "You're really happy about what happened, huh?"

 

"You bet." He replied, immediately. "It's just...crazy. I think maybe we might end up friends again. And I really didn't go into this expecting THAT."

 

She smiled a little, now, and Ash turned his head to watch her. "I hope you do. Sounds like you kind of missed being friends with Gary."

 

Ash thought about that, frowning a little with his mouth slightly open. He clicked his tongue, then, shrugging. "Guess I did. We did have fun, when we were younger. We liked a lot of the same stuff. Maybe we still do. I'll find out. I'm just still sorta...mind-blown that I got a 'sorry' out of him. You don't think they have him on meds, right?"

 

"Probably." She snorted, settling back against the couch, Pika now in her hands that she held loosely in her lap. "I'm glad, really. You seem a ton better now. I was worried about you...a few of us were. I told Brock after you messaged me the first time, so he might want to hear from you sometime tonight."

 

Ash slapped his forehead. "I should've told him, too! Ugh, and Ritchie. Man, I'm starting to slip when it comes to friends."

 

"Ritchie?"

 

"Yeah, I talked to him about it before I talked to you, actually." He winced a little, glancing at her apologetically. "But he was really nice about it. I'm just glad I've got you guys and that you get where I'm coming from with this."

 

The red-head huffed. "Well, we wouldn't be good friends if we didn't. You didn't tell anyone else, though, right?"

 

Ash frowned, looking back up at the ceiling. "...May and Drew might know. I think they were listening to me and Ritchie." Misty scoffed beside him. "Yeah, I know. I mean, I don't hate them, but they really know how to pluck peoples' nerves."

 

"They're not terrible people. Just...really wrapped up in who-said-what. In any case," Misty smiled faintly at him again, "I'm glad things went well. And I'm really glad that you're less upset."

 

It was dark in the living room. The light from the kitchen was still on, so that they could eventually see when they went upstairs. The only other light source was the light pollution from the sky outside, dotted with a few stars and the pale moon. Ash watched the girl, who was watching him. Seconds were passing since she had spoken last, and he supposed normally he was supposed to thank her for what she'd said. Instead, the warm feeling was swimming in his chest from the earlier hours and now passing up into his face, wrapping around his brain in some sort of comforting fog. She was so cute, she cared so much.

 

Still staring at the girl, he shifted his arms off the couch, leaning towards her. She didn't lean away, only blinked once. It was when he got closer that she finally moved, reaching up to lift the brim of his cap up so it wouldn't hit her in the forehead. Ash kept his eyes open up until the very last second, only to assure that he wouldn't miss his mark, and closed them when he finally kissed her.

 

He was fifteen, would be sixteen during the summer, and had kissed girls a handful of times. He didn't consider it important, because he didn't find dating all that interesting. He'd tried it in seventh grade with a girl named Angie who played for the girl's softball team, had kissed her a few times, but it had not been anything notable. Mutually, they had ended things, and their friendship had been awkward afterwards. Kissing was fickle, anyway. He'd only liked it a couple times that he'd done it. This time, however, was one of the fewer that he found he enjoyed. Ash barely thought about anything at all, the briefest notion of irony about the rumors about the pair of them floating by before vanishing into some sort of pleasant, white void. When his hand reached up to touch and then cup her face, he found it was just as soft as her lips, and smiled absently.

 

When he drew back, it was only a little bit. He could feel the heat of her face close to his, his nose brushing hers. She smelled like chlorine and soap, and there wasn't a trace of powder on her face at all. Her blue eyes were open just a little, enough to watch him. He was slightly afraid of what she would have to say. Instead, she smiled back at him.

 

"When I was younger, I used to dream about you doing that."

 

Ash kissed her again.

 

\--

 

Even if he had little-to-no respect for his mother, Ash didn't do much more then kiss Misty a couple times. She was his best friend, after all, and she also deserved respect. That, and the girl likely would have beaten him into a bloody pulp if he'd dared try anything more. Just enjoying the couple kisses he did get and touching her soft face and hands was more then enough to keep him sleeping soundly when they finally did head upstairs. Still, he kept her fingers laced in his own as he led her along. It felt weird, to be like THIS with Misty, but in a good way.

 

The spare room was the only room in the house that neither Ketchum used on a regular basis. Ash thought HE should have been able to select the theme of the room, on the grounds that the only people who ever slept there were his friends. He couldn't recall a time that he or his mother had had family over for a night...or at all, really. His mother held firm, though, and so the room Misty would sleep in was done in muted beige and egg-shell white. The red-head lingered in the doorway, biting one side of her bottom lip. The other side was curved up just a little.

 

"...Things aren't...going to be dumb between us now, right?" She asked, finally. Her voice was low, low enough that Ash knew his mother wouldn't hear what they were saying from her room down the hall. "I mean, this is fine. More then fine. I'm super okay with this. I just...I don't want us to be..." She took a deep breath, frustration with herself and her lack of words to explain her point causing her brows to furrow. "I don't want to stop being US together. I don't want us to forget the 'friends' part."

 

"...You're my best friend." He replied, putting his hands in his pockets. "Trust me, you can still beat me in video games whenever you want."

 

His smile must have reassured her, because his friend - wow, she was his _girlfriend_ now, wasn't she? - smiled back. "Any time, anywhere." She confirmed before passing him his sleepy ferret. She leaned in as he reached to take Pika, her lips grazing his own for a second before pulling away. "Night, Ash."

 

"G'night." Ash thought his voice sounded extremely stupid, but Misty didn't comment about it if she thought the same. Instead, she shut the door, the light coming on soon after and pooling around his feet from the crack at the bottom of the door. Still feeling more then light-headed, he traipsed down the hall to the bathroom, passing through to get to his own bedroom. Pika barely moved as Ash placed the creature back in its cage, and only then did it finally crawl into its sleeping sock.

 

The dark-haired boy fell into bed right after, still in his clothes from earlier that day. He was aware that they faintly smelled like the hospital, but didn't care. In what he knew his mother would call 'extreme laziness', he wormed his pants off while laying on his back, kicking them off the bed. He would sleep in his tee-shirt and underwear; to him, it wasn't a big deal, but his mom hated it, especially when he had guests over. He knew better then to walk around in front of them in just his boxers, he wasn't THAT laid back. Sleepily, he made sure that his flannel pants from the night before were still on the floor where he'd left them, and made a mental note to slip them on when he woke up.

 

Curling up comfortably on his side, he wondered what Misty would be doing, how she'd be feeling. Maybe she felt just as stupidly happy as he did...maybe not. After all, he wasn't just happy about what had occurred between them (though that WAS a big part of his giddy mood). He had Gary's apology as well as his gratitude on top of that. How in the world, he thought, could he have seen any of this coming? Secretly, he was extremely proud of himself by first going through with the visit and then growing the balls to make any kind of move on Misty.

 

Ash began to think ahead. He'd have to take Misty out somewhere, now that they were doing this couple thing. He debated on doing it before or after going to see Gary tomorrow...he didn't think it'd look good for him in either Misty or Gary's eyes if he brought the girl with him to see his former friend. Maybe he could wait until after the game Sunday. She'd be there anyway. And so would Brock --

 

Ash shot out of bed, fumbling for his discarded jeans and the phone still in the pocket. He'd completely forgotten about talking to Brock or Ritchie about what had happened. Well, that was only half his fault, but he didn't know if he wanted to share that with more then Brock just yet. Plenty of people would know come Monday. The thought of then having to figure out how to behave with Misty when Monday rolled around made him cringe, and he scrambled back up onto the bed while sliding the keyboard on his phone out.

 

He sent separate messages to his two male friends. Ritchie's was a vague 'things went ok, catch u sunday', while Brock's was on level with what he'd sent Misty earlier on. Ritchie's response came a second later, as 'B) cool man'. Brock's took a moment more, and Ash nearly fell asleep before the phone screen lit up in his outstretched hand.

 

His older friend had a bit to say on the subject, and it came in a couple text messages:

 

_'First, way proud of you for sticking to your guns. Second, hate to spoil the good mood, but I think it's a bit strange he all of a sudden had a couple nicer things to say. I'm not saying that's entirely bad, but it might be a big red flag as to what's going on. Either way, I'm sure that's not the last shouting match the two of you are going to have. Brace yourself. I'd keep trying if that's what you want to do, since it sounds like at least part of him doesn't mind, but keep on your toes and don't let him step on them too much.'_

 

_'Thirdly, and most importantly: I told you so. I'm sure she'll be messaging me in the morning about it. You sly dog. Real happy for you, Ash, you sound a lot less gloomy then you have all week. Swing by Sunday after your game, I'll feed you or something.'_

 

Ash frowned. The offer to eat at Brock's was welcoming, as well as an indication that Brock wouldn't have time to talk in depth about anything until then. The first message, however, did effectively kill a bit of the good vibes he'd had going. He didn't like thinking about possibly getting into another fight with Gary, not after ending things so well earlier on. Brock made it sound like that part, though, the part where Gary had been a bit nicer, was an act. If not an act, then it was implied that something there was wrong.

 

Was there...?

 

He shot off a quick 'k. make dumplins??? plz???' before hooking the phone to the charger beside his bed. The boy found himself looking at his window, at the small corner of the Oaks' home visible from where he lay. The frown was still sitting on his face. He recalled Gary's declarations that Ash didn't know anything...with scattered references to his grandfather thrown in. Samuel Oak had looked angry, had sounded even more so. He called Gary's behavior 'insufferable', and Gary had shot back that the teacher always found him 'insufferable', instilling even more fury in the elderly man before the situation had been abruptly defused by the doctor. Ash had never seen his teacher fly off the handle in that way before. Even as children, he could remember only seeing a few stern talking-tos from Mr. Oak, but they were never so full of anger as what he'd seen earlier that night. Gary mentioned that the Sam Ash knew was different then the one who lived in the house next door. Ash had scoffed at the idea upon first hearing it, but now...

 

There was also Gary's final, truly-biting remark. 'I don't need my dog in love with your stupid ass just like everyone else', followed by a sarcastic 'thank you' that still made Ash twitch. What had that meant? Not everyone 'loved' Ash, as far as Ash knew. It had some deeper meaning, but he couldn't grasp what that would be. Eventually, with a yawn, Ash chalked it up to something the other boy had meant to sound harsh and nothing more. He didn't want to be bothered by worrying if Gary would hate him again come the next morning, he just wanted to hope for the best.

 

Ash would think it was odd, in the morning, but what got him to sleep after being troubled wasn't the thought of Misty and their 'together' status. It was Gary's soft 'thank you', the one he meant as he looked at the couple pictures Ash had taken of Bree.

 

"Y're welcome..." He mumbled, eyes closed. Pika squeaked in response.

 

\--

 

In retrospect, he was stupid for trying to hide anything so large from his own mother.

 

Delia Ketchum knew the moment he entered the kitchen in the morning what had transpired between Ash and one of his best friends, and he knew that she knew just by looking at her. He opened his mouth, face reddening, and that was all the confirmation she needed.

 

"It's about time you asked that girl out, you know." She finally murmured, flipping a couple pancakes as he groaned. "Honey, now, there's nothing to be embarrassed about."

 

"There is if you keep talking about it...! She's right upstairs, mom!" Ash hissed, snitching a piece of Canadian bacon from a paper-towel lined plate. His mother immediately swatted at his fingers with her spatula, waggling it in a threatening manner.

 

"You had better stop that picking, Ashton. That's how you lose fingers."

 

"Yes'm." He grumbled, although his fingers already did suffer due to how hot the stolen meat was.

 

With an exasperated sigh, the brunette turned back to the griddle she was using, ladling out two more batches of batter. "In any case, I'm happy for you. You're FINALLY growing up~"

 

"MOM."

 

"Oh, give me this, would you?" She mock-pouted at her son, "I've only got one little boy and he'll only have his first serious girlfriend once in his life."

 

"He still is a little boy." Ash whipped his head around so fast that he almost made himself dizzy. His red-haired friend was wandering through the kitchen, dressed in a pair of sleep pants and another sweatshirt. It must have been too cold for her the night before. On her way past, she reached out and ruffled his hair. "G'morning, Mrs. Ketchum."

 

"Hello honey~" His mother gushed in return, apparently agreeing with Misty's snarky remark. "Oh, I'm so GLAD it was you."

 

Misty's own face turned a couple shades of pink. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on him." She mumbled, pulling open the cups cabinet and retrieving glasses for the three of them. "Whatcha want, Ash?"

 

As much as he'd been panicking over his mother knowing about his new relationship, the morning from that point on was just about like any other after Misty stayed the night. The two females got on rather well to begin with, but Delia seemed especially happy to interact with Misty that particular day. Conversation was the same as it normally would have been: how was school that week, how was practice. Thankfully, his mother didn't seem to think it was necessary to prod them on their bond. That would undoubtedly come later.

 

The normalcy of their breakfast finally halted when she deviated from her usual banter. "Ash, when did you want to go to the hospital? I don't mean to push you...but I do have a few errands to run. Just planning ahead."

 

"Uh..." He hadn't thought about it since the night before. The idea of going to visit his neighbor had slipped his mind for most of the morning, until that point. The boy absently tapped the tines of his fork on the table, frowning. "I dunno. I don't really wanna rush Misty out of here."

 

"Actually..." Said girl cut in, snitching his juice (once again, she had insisted on water for herself), "My sisters are coming to get me in an hour. Cilan's brother had to take some extra hours at their business and I'm next to get called in to watch the pool."

 

"Your life is straight out of Baywatch." Ash commented, taking his cup back before she had the idea to dump the contents on his head.

 

The girl leered at him while his mother grinned, clasping her hands. "Perfect. We'll wait for you to go, then, Misty. I'm sure you'll both see each other tomorrow, so there's no need to be upset."

 

Ash rubbed part of his face tiredly. He had a feeling this wouldn't get old for quite some time. There was some satisfaction in the embarrassment on Misty's own face, at least.

 

In all honesty, it wasn't as though Ash could fault his mother for being so excited. She'd loved his last semi-serious girlfriend, Angie, and had been more then disappointed to learn that he'd broken up with the girl after such a short period of time. Delia had always loved Misty as a person, and she was always _hinting_ at Ash taking the relationship with his friend to a more personal level. Ultimately, she was his mother, and she'd embarrass him for the rest of her life out of love. That was just fine. At least she cared.

 

Briefly, he thought of the house next door and the heated argument from the night before. Misty left the room to shower and change for the morning, and that was when Ash slid up beside his mother to talk to her in private.

 

"Mom? You talk with Mr. Oak a lot..."

 

The woman was once again washing dishes, something she seemed to be doing whenever Ash wanted to talk with her, but she glanced in his direction to show she was listening. "I do. He's my tea-time friend while you're at practice, most days. Why? You aren't in trouble with your grades, are you?"

 

"Not more then usual." He tried to joke, only to smile nervously when his mother remained non-plussed. "No mom. But...does he ever talk about Gary?"

 

She hesitated. Ash watched her fingers twitch against the cup in her hands, nearly allowing the slippery surface to slide right out from under them and back down into the sink. "...Not usually." She finally replied, quietly.

 

"...Why?" He was instantly troubled by this. Her words were already working towards confirming Gary's own from the night before. "Don't parents talk about their kids all the time? You do."

 

"Because you're my little sunshine." The brunette smiled a little when she said it, leaning over to peck him on his cheek before he could protest. When he continued to stare at her, the grin shrank just a little. "...I don't think it's my place to say, honey." She seemed to put something together, then, and was quick to look in Ash's direction once more. "Did...something happen between them last night?"

 

So Ash told her. He tried to remember word for word what exactly had been said, trying to leave out the more offensive language so that he wouldn't be chastised in the middle of speaking. Slowly, his mother's face grew more and more concerned, then sad. She shut off the sink in the middle of washing up the dirty plates, something she rarely ever did. The last time she'd paused in her cleaning was when he came home from school with three 'F' marks on his report card, something told to her by Samuel Oak, who Ash was not feeling very fond of for some time afterwards.

 

When he finally finished, his mother was quiet for a few seconds before reaching up to cup his face in both of her hands. He hadn't realized that he was flushed, nor how passionately he'd been retelling the events until feeling the softness of her fingers on his cheeks. "...I've already told you; it's not my place to say just what may be going on behind closed doors." She held up a finger when Ash opened his mouth to protest, and he closed it so she could continue to speak. "What you need to know is that your teacher was put in a very hard position years ago, and that he's made some mistakes. He's aware of those, now, but Gary's just like you: he's a hot-blooded teenage boy created solely to drive his guardian up a wall." Her joke was met with a half-smile, which she returned briefly. "I think...that there's been some distance between them both for quite a long time. Samuel's acknowledged it but hasn't been able to approach Gary on it...he's not sure how. He's old, Ash...more then I am. He raised his own child many years before Gary came along. It's hard to be a parent again after that long. What happened this week hasn't helped much. I had to talk to him for a few hours to get him to calm down. He does care...there's just a lot that's happened between those two and I'm...I'm not sure when it might get better. It might not. Gary's not a small child, and he's held on to a lot of feelings."

 

"...Is that why...?"

 

"I don't know." His mother cut in, hastily. "I don't know...I knew there were other things wrong, maybe at school, but I didn't know about the bullying until Thursday. There are a lot of things that could run through a person's head to make them feel so strongly about...about death. I've never talked to you about it before now...and I should have. You're so affected by this..." She trailed off, biting her lip, and Ash had a sinking suspicion she might cry. He hoped not. Thankfully, she tensed her shoulders back up, controlling her voice. "...I'm so proud that you want to help. But don't...go sticking your nose into business it doesn't belong in. Promise me."

 

"Mom--"

 

"Promise."

 

He didn't know if he could, in all seriousness, do that. He stared at her, mind screaming to ask the millions of questions he still had. She wouldn't let him go until he promised, whether he meant it or not, and if he was truthful with himself, she likely had resigned herself to him doing whatever he wanted regardless of his promise.

 

Instead of murmuring the correct phrase to relax her, he asked just one other question:

 

"What happened to his mom and dad?"

 

Delia's expression was something that Ash found, with shock and apprehension, that he couldn't read. Her eyes swam with tears, but her mouth was set in a firm and angry line. He got the feeling her anger wasn't directed at him, but he couldn't be sure. When she pulled him into a tight hug, it surprised him, but he laid his arms loosely around her waist as her fingers carded gently through his hair.

 

Ash thought that was the end of it, that she wouldn't answer. Instead, in a sad and heart-breaking murmur, she replied:

 

"They decided to leave, honey. Some people just...don't have the time or patience to be parents."

 

It was not an answer he'd been expecting. He'd thought for sure that perhaps Gary's parents had been killed in an accident, or perhaps had jobs overseas. The idea that they had just _left him there_ sat horribly on his shoulders. His mother sounded so upset by it, almost _betrayed_. He supposed he could see why that was, now, even just a little. His own mom had done all she possibly could to make things good for the pair of them as he'd grown up. He knew she'd had a restaurant before having her son, and that it had no longer become possible for her to juggle both being a mother and a business woman at the same time. Her sacrifices, however, were at her own discretion, and she did them out of love. It probably shocked her, even disgusted her, that two other people had just decided they didn't want to be parents to their own child. It certainly made _him_ feel sick to his stomach.

 

He was still holding onto her when Misty returned. They hadn't spoken a word, and the brunette did nothing but give him a small, sad smile upon parting. She murmured that he should spend a little time with the red-head before she went home, and he agreed quietly before ushering Misty upstairs once more.

 

"Lemme guess." She said, upon sitting backwards in his desk chair. "Gary again?"

 

He only nodded jerkily, releasing Pika from his cage. The ferret was bright eyed and bushy-tailed - literally - and immediately charged onto Ash's hand. It rolled all over his wrist and jumped onto the front of his shirt, climbing up to settle under his chin. In the beginning, he had used to cry out in shock at the rodent's sudden jumping but today, as he did most days now, he merely watched to make sure the creature didn't accidentally fall off his shirt before sitting on his bed. "Sorry. I know you're probably sick of that by now."

 

"Shut up, I am not." The girl waved dismissively at him. Her expression softened, and she curled her arms on the back of his desk chair. "Your mom looked real upset...you did too. That's why I figured it was about him. Something else happen?"

 

Ash hesitated, mouth open. The door at the bottom of his spiral staircase was open, and he could hear his mother as she clinked around dishes under the running water. Even with the noise, he had no doubts she'd hear them. He bit the bullet anyway. "No. Nothing new, anyway. I just...I asked about his parents. I don't know why, it just sort've...came out. And she told me they left."

 

Misty, to his surprise, did not look like that was interesting news. Well, she did raise an eyebrow, but the concept didn't seem to bother her as much as he'd thought it would have. "Really? Huh."

 

"That's it...?"

 

She shrugged, picking at a loose thread on one of her sleeves. "I know how that is, that's all. I mean, it makes sense, really. He lives with his grandpa. Kids don't usually live with their grandparents unless something really bad happened, right? I mean like jail or...dying...things like that."

 

"Wait...what do you mean you know how it is?" Ash blurted, staring oddly at the red-head.

 

Misty all of a sudden looked a bit wary, even a little sad, and Ash immediately felt a surge of guilt for asking. He reached forward, grabbing the chair back and pulling the whole thing towards himself. "Hey...I'm sorry." He mumbled, laying his hands on her arms. "You don't have to tell me."

 

"...It's okay. I don't think I've ever told you, so I can't get mad at you for forgetting." Misty admitted, placing her chin on her forearms. "It seems so normal for me, I guess. It's always been me and my sisters. My parents left and went overseas when I was little. They just...they're pretty high-society, like my sisters. I guess they have a place in Europe. Lily told me that they didn't feel like dragging a bunch of little girls with them when they went, so they just...left a Nanny in charge of us. You've seen her before. Actually...I'm kind of jealous of Gary."

 

"What?"

 

"I know, it's silly." A small smile graced her face. "But I wish I had family that stepped in for us. It would've been nice, I guess. I think that's why my sisters ended up so...you know. Spoiled. Mom and dad sent us lots of money, and didn't care how we spent it. Nobody was around to tell my sisters how to act and they just...got out of control. Nanny left us about four years ago. I sort of miss her...she cared, you know? I guess maybe that's why I like your mom so much..."

 

Ash didn't know what to say. It was so much to drink in, but he realized that it fit with what he'd known about the girl before then. Slowly, he reached up and put his hand on her face, which she promptly but gently sandwiched between her cheek and one of her arms. "You can share my mom whenever, Misty. She loves you a lot. Even if...something happens and this stops between you and me...you can talk to mom. I'm not gonna stop you."

 

"...You're stupid." She murmured, with no malice. "But thanks. Sorry for getting so depressing."

 

"It's okay. I'm glad you told me..." He bit his lip, thumb twitching against the girl's temple, "I guess I've...kinda been feeling like I don't know as much about you and Brock and...some of the others like I should. And I really should know about you, huh?"

 

Misty shrugged lightly. "I just never thought to bring it up. It's not your fault. Like I said, the way things are now are just normal for me. I don't think about mom and dad much because...I dunno, I don't really need them. Much as my sisters suck, they took care of me okay after Nanny left. I wouldn't know mom or dad if they bumped into me on the street. They call, sometimes, but it's like talking with someone you only-kinda-sorta-know, if that makes any sense. Violet thinks they might come home in a year or two, but I'm not worried if they don't. I don't need them to see me at prom or to sit in a couple chairs at graduation. It's tempting but...they're just people. People who had a chance to know me better then anyone else could, but they chose not to. My sisters all feel kind of different about them...Lily's like me, I don't think it bothers her much. Violet and Daisy talk about them all the time, though." She paused for breath, and then lifted up her head so that it released Ash's hand. He absently leaned forward, resting their foreheads together. "...Sometimes I'm sad about it...but most of the time, I'm just happy for what I've got."

 

She and Ash sat that way for the small amount of time before Daisy arrived, his hands laying on her shoulders and their faces so intimately close. Misty didn't look upset when she heard Ash's mother call up the stairs that her sister had arrived. To Ash, she looked relieved, and he was as well for not upsetting her over the conversation.

 

His mother gave Misty a small hug, and Ash paid attention. He had never really done so before. The amount of small things he noticed about it astounded him. The way his mother placed a hand on Misty's head as she did him when THEY hugged, how she would tuck Misty's head between her face and shoulder. How Misty hugged her tightly and _smiled_ genuinely when she did so. It wasn't a hug given between just females who happened to know each other a little, it was a comforting and familiar gesture that suggested perhaps they were related and close to one another. It also hit him that he hugged the girl in a similar way, but it was a warm hit that didn't sting in the least. His mother pretended to be preoccupied when he kissed the girl good-bye, which was more then Misty's older sister did (Daisy was _gaping_ in shock, sunglasses dropped far down on her nose).

 

"I'll call you later." He promised his new girlfriend. The word still rolled around his head oddly, as if it were still looking for a place to fit.

 

Misty nodded, readjusting her bag on her shoulder. "I know you will. See you Ash."

 

They parted, finally, and he watched from the front door as she climbed into the passenger's seat beside her still shocked-looking sister. It was only when the red-head frowned and elbowed the other girl that Daisy shook off her daze and quickly backed out of the driveway. He lifted his hand in farewell, which Misty returned before the car sped out of sight. He snickered, thinking of how the girl's older sisters would be bugging and badgering her constantly.

 

While he was standing there, Ash absently peered over at his neighbor's home. Looking back at him was - unsurprisingly - Bree, who sat at the fence and wagged her tail when she noticed him finally glancing in her direction. He grinned, pulled on his shoes, and called to his mother that he'd be gone for a moment and to wait for him.

 

He made sure to count out a few quarters before heading out the door, just enough to cover a cup of ice cream for a large dog.

 

\--

 

"You smell like a dog, Ash."

 

The boy tried to hide a smile from his mother. She was wrinkling her nose and glancing at him accusingly. "Well, yeah. Dogs smell like dogs, mom."

 

"Ashton..." She sighed. They were driving down the highway, halfway to the hospital he'd gone to the night before. The route there was different in the day time. He found that it was harder to notice anything in the day then it was at night, when everything of importance or even of interest was lit up. In the day, the concrete highway and the glaring brightness from the sun reflecting off of other vehicles made looking for anything off the road dull.

 

"Sorry. I asked if you wanted me to shower." Ash offered. He'd at least changed out into jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, a hoodie over top to keep out the chill.

 

His mother again sighed. "I know. I shouldn't have been so impatient. I suppose that's where you get a bit of it from. But only a little."

 

He grinned at that. "Well, I didn't get your cleaning habits."

 

"Don't remind me." She huffed in response. Her eyes glanced into the rear view mirror, and Ash's did instinctively as well. There were a couple clear Tupperware containers in the backseat, containing leftovers from the night before as well as a couple pieces of apple pie. He hadn't been allowed anywhere near the pie until she'd cut out the two pieces to put in the container, and even then he'd been forced to wolf down his own piece before she headed out the door. Gary was a lucky bastard, getting the first couple fresh slices of his mother's pie...

 

The smell alone is what Ash believed let he and his mother in so quickly past the main desk at the hospital. The homey, comforting scent of his mother's pie carried rather far, and when she cheerfully explained she'd come to give it to the young boy upstairs, the receptionist gave the boxes a wistful look before hurriedly jotting out visitor stickers for the both of them. Delia shushed him when he pointed it out as they waited for an elevator, but he saw the pleased look on her face before she attempted to cover it.

 

When they reached the ICU, Ash was somewhat glad to see that his mother only looked slightly nervous. "Oh, hospitals are nothing to be afraid of. They help people, you know." She said, softly, as they walked through the large double doors. "People come here to get better. It's...not pleasant, but necessary. I had you in one, and that was one of the best days of my life."

 

"Mom..." He cringed as a couple nurses near a desk they passed giggled at her declaration. "He's in this one."

 

The light was off, but there was really no reason for it to be on. The large windows had their canvas-sheet blinds up, and the curtain around the bed was pulled all the way back. Gary was using the sunlight to read a book, this one much less heavy and official looking then the one from before. He looked up as they entered, and once again looked caught off-guard by the appearance of someone other then a member of hospital staff.

 

"Hello, honey!" Delia was all smiles, and Ash almost felt bad for Gary as the woman swept into the room, depositing the plastic containers on the counter opposite the bed. She gave the auburn-haired boy a small squeeze, which he returned after another brief second of shock.

 

"...Mrs. Ketchum...?"

 

Ash snickered as Gary peered over the woman's shoulder at him. "C'mon, you knew she was gonna come. She even made you food as an excuse."

 

At those words, the other boy's green eyes lit up. Ash wasn't surprised at all; Gary would know better then others how desirable Delia's food was. "...Really?"

 

The brunette moved away quickly, taking up the containers and opening them. The smells from her kitchen were overpowering - Ash thought he heard a passing nurse sigh happily - and filled the room. His neighbor was almost salivating. "Don't you dare listen to him, I just thought you'd like something with a bit more flavor then what they serve here."

 

"...Holy COW. Thank you so much." The auburn-haired boy popped the fork attached to the lid of one of the containers out, hover handing the utensil over the container holding the sheppards pie from the night before. "Really. This looks great."

 

Ash's mother beamed, immediately fussing with just about everything she could. It was amusing to watch, for Ash, especially since Gary seemed bewildered by her behavior. Each time the boys would catch each others' eyes, Ash would smirk, Gary would shrug, and both would look back at the woman as she continued to pick and fluff and generally try to make the room more 'home-like'.

 

"I heard you'll be coming home this week." She finally stated, sitting gingerly on the foot of Gary's bed, though not before smoothing out the covers for the third time. Ash took this as his cue to finally move away from the door, pulling up a chair instead.

 

The other boy swallowed a mouthful of apples, cinnamon, and a variety of other delicious things before setting the now empty container aside. He ran a thumb across one of the corners of his mouth, sticking it into his mouth briefly. "...Mm-hm. Tuesday."

 

"Perfect! Just in time for your birthday. You'll have to tell me what sort of cake to make you before Saturday." The woman gushed, clasping her hands.

 

Gary seemed, once again, surprised by her. "...I...you don't have to..."

 

"Oh, shush." She waved away his half-hearted protests, smiling softly. "Give me an excuse not to leave more sweets around my house for this one to devour."

 

"Mom." Ash grumbled, frowning sourly. She only giggled at him.

 

Gary managed a half-smile of his own. "...Okay. Uh...thank you. I really wasn't expecting you."

 

The woman scooted up further towards him, laying a hand gently in his hair. "It's no trouble. You just let Ash know if you want more until you come home. Then you can come and get whatever you'd like. And you call me if he eats it before it gets here." Ash made a squeaky noise of protest, which made the other two chuckle.

 

"Sure." Was the older boy's response. "Thanks."

 

With that, Ash watched his mother stand, and was confused to see her wander towards the door. "I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to get some tea. Would either of you like some?" When both murmured that they would, she smiled, waving a little. "Be good now!"

 

Ash blinked, eyes on the door even after she left, and finally turned back to the other boy to see a similar look of puzzlement on his features. They stared at one another, then laughed.

 

"I forgot all about your mom." Gary admitted as Ash settled his arms on the collapsible side of the bed. "Did you ask her to come?"

 

"You know I didn't." The other boy replied, carefully moving the empty Tupperware to the top of one of the machines next to the bed. "I told her I was coming to see you again, and she told me it wouldn't be fair to your grandpa to have him drive me every time...then she wanted to give you food..." He shrugged, laying his chin on his fist. "You know how mom is."

 

The other boy nodded, sticking a scrap of paper in between the pages of the novel on his lap and setting it aside. "Well, thank you for not talking her out of it. That was the best thing I've eaten in weeks."

 

There it was again, a sincere and meaningful 'thank you' from Gary Oak. Ash tried not to let the shock show on his face. "Welcome. So. Do I have permission to take a piece of your cake before she padlocks it away in a cake box?"

 

Gary rolled his eyes. "And there it is. Your stomach is going to be the end of you, y'know."

 

"Can you blame me, though?" Ash retorted, giving the other a knowing look. Gary searched it carefully before shaking his head. "I didn't think so. Oh, speaking of sweets..." He dug into his pocket, catching how quick realization lit up Gary's face. He tapped on his phone the moment it was out and in his hand, passing it off to the other boy once the pictures had loaded.

 

A twitchy smile spread across Gary's face, and he covered his mouth with his hand when he finally did smile to reveal his teeth. It was weird, and a bit _girly_ when Ash thought of it, but if Gary noticed his bemusement, the older boy said nothing about it. "...These are...really good. Ah-- is it stuck on her nose there...?!" He laughed, tapping the screen and flipping the phone.

 

"...What're you doing?" Ash asked, afraid that the other was taking the time to snoop through his phone. He didn't want Brock or Ritchie's conversations from the night before to pop up, let alone Misty's.

 

Gary didn't snap at him for asking, though, and finally handed the phone back over. There was a soft, muffled noise from under his pillow, and he took his own cell phone out from under it. "I sent them to myself." He waggled the phone to show Ash the pictures of Bree and her cup of ice cream now on his own screen. "Sorry. I should've asked."

 

Ash checked the number that the pictures had been sent to, and without thinking, saved it into his cell phone. "So do I call you 'Assface' on here or...?"

 

"Ha ha ha, you so funny, fuckboy."

 

Ash snorted, putting the phone away once he'd hurriedly typed the boy's name into his contacts. Gary, he saw, was doing the same. "We better tone it down before mom comes back. Last time she heard me say 'fuck', she put an actual bar of soap in my mouth."

 

"Wait, really?" Shock gave way to laughter again. "Like Ralphie?"

 

"Ughhhh don't talk about that movie, I'll have to watch it all Christmas." Ash moaned, pressing his forehead to the plastic bed rail while Gary continued to laugh at him.

 

"Y'know..." He lifted his head as the older boy began to calm down. His hand was back to hover over his mouth. Ash was annoyed by it, wanted to know what Gary was doing, but didn't ask. "She probably left so that we'd talk." The auburn-haired boy was saying.

 

"...Probably. My mom's psychic." Ash murmured in a serious tone, which made Gary snicker again. His phone vibrated in his hand, screen lighting up, and he frowned before swiping to see what had been sent.

 

When he smiled, Gary tried to lean over to look. "What?"

 

"Misty." Was all Ash said, holding up the phone to show what she'd sent him: a picture of her and Brock at the school's pool. Several of the boy's siblings were apparently causing chaos behind them, made even more evident by Misty's over-exaggerated grimace. "Cress called off his shift there today, so she had to go in. I guess she's regretting it, now."

 

"Ohhh, Misty. People keep saying she's your girlfriend." The auburn-haired boy commented.

 

"Well...actually." Ash half-smiled sheepishly. "That's true."

 

An odd expression came over Gary's face. "Really? Since when?"

 

"Last night, after I got home. It just sort of...happened. Actually, besides a couple of my friends and mom, you're the only person who knows. I'm really not looking forward to Monday. Serena's going to murder us both."

 

"I don't know who that is." Was the blunt reply.

 

Leaning back in his chair, Ash rubbed his face a little. "She's this pretty blond girl, I think she said she lived in France for a couple years. And she's got this weird _thing_ for me."

 

"Oh, woe betide you, o' unfortunate soul. How doth one feel to be so loved by many?" Gary responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. Ash lazily swatted at him. "Seriously, what's so terrible about that?"

 

"The fact that she's completely cool otherwise? That she acts almost down-right psychotic when people even joke about me getting a girlfriend who isn't her? I'm pretty sure she only made herself friends with Misty so that she could be the first one to know if anything really DID happen between us." He griped, watching through his not-hand-covered eye as Gary leaned on the guardrail of the bed.

 

"So she probably will kill you come Monday?" His neighbor questioned, finally settled in a semi-twisted sitting position.

 

Ash nodded once, grunting an affirmative. "Yep. Or cry. I don't like her like that, but I don't want her to be so upset. If I thought I could get away with it, I'd keep the whole thing a secret, but that's not gonna happen. People talk too much."

 

"Yeah." Came a murmur from the other boy. "I'm aware."

 

Ash noticed the abrupt change in demeanor immediately. He bit his lip, crossing one leg over the other and lightly bouncing his foot. His mother still hadn't returned... "Gary? Can I...can I ask you a couple things? You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I promise it's..." He paused. "...It's not gonna leave this room if you don't wanna. I won't even tell Misty: I've...kinda been talking with her about things."

 

"...About me?" Gary quirked a brow up. "Why? Other then the fact that I'm sure it's what everyone's talking about."

 

"It's not like that." Ash quickly replied, holding up his hands. "I just needed someone to talk to about it. It's...it's not just her. I've talked to Brock and Ritchie a couple times and...Cilan once. Mom. I trust them."

 

"I don't." Came the harsh retort. "I don't know your friends. Why're you even going around talking about this? Please don't tell me you reported back to them all about last night."

 

Ash hesitated, wincing. "...A couple of'em, yeah..." When Gary groaned, he waved his hands. "Gary, come on, I promise they aren't going to tell anybody. They aren't like that. I wouldn't have told them if they were."

 

"Fine. Then I'll let you know if you can tell them about what the answers to your questions are, and so help me if you tell them when I ask you not to..."

 

Laughing nervously at the serious and slightly murderous expression on Gary's face, Ash went ahead and asked: "Uh...well...why'd you turn down Coach Liebold when he asked you on?"

 

It took a few moments, during which Gary first looked bewildered, then frowned as he thought about it, and finally answered. "It caught me off-guard, honestly. The first time, anyway. I didn't know what to say. So I told him I didn't want to. And I still don't. I know exactly how the experience would go, and I'm done getting cornered by too many people to escape from. He kept bugging me about different teams, though. To tell you the truth, that was pretty great to hear, that he thought I was good enough for those. But it just felt...like he was desperate to get me to do something. It got worse once Gramps hopped on the train...when he did, I knew I wasn't going to join."

 

"Why? Just because your grandpa wanted you to...?"

 

"It's complicated." Gary murmured, looking away from Ash. "...I told you last night...you don't know gramps like I do."

 

His mother's voice that morning telling him about the old man in question flew through Ash's brain before he shoved it away. He wouldn't press it. "I wish you would. I'd stick up for you. It takes a lot to impress our coach, y'know...so if he wants you that bad, you've gotta be good."

 

"I don't want to, Ash. Can we move on, please...?" The other boy pleaded, quietly.

 

Ash held back an irritated sigh. Patience. "...People've been talking about you so much since you left. I've...heard some stuff and wanted to know if it was true."

 

Gary immediately looked defensive again. His eyes were guarded, and it took him a moment to nod. "Okay...like what?"

 

Ash opened his mouth, but his eyes darted away and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He knew for certain this would make things uncomfortable. Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. Rumors and such.

 

"...Are you gay?"

 

He waited for the pin to drop. His neighbor looked frozen in shock and rigid with anger all at the same time. Now he wasn't sure if he'd live to have Serena kill him on Monday.

 

To his utter shock and surprise, though, Gary replied in a calm and level tone. "...Yes."

 

It threw Ash for a huge loop. He'd have to get on a roller coaster to experience worse whiplash then his encounters with Gary were giving him. "Seriously? Just like that?"

 

Gary heaved an annoyed sigh, rolling his eyes. "Well, really, what am I gonna do? Lie? Or I could sit here and choose not to answer, therefore giving you all the answer you need. Yeah. Those ones are true. And you can tell whoever you like, I really don't care."

 

"I just...thought you wouldn't wanna tell me if you were."

 

"I'm way past giving a fuck about who knows. Everyone's going to assume I am regardless of what I say. It's a go-to insult that ten-year-olds will throw out. In my case, it stuck, but it was also true. Whatever. People can make dick-sucking and ass-pounding jokes all they want. Fuck'em. I don't get what the big deal is."

 

"I guess I don't, either." The dark-haired boy agreed, frowning at his lap. "Cilan's gay. Nobody gives him problems. Much."

 

"Cilan's a whole other level of gay." Gary mumbled, "And he's not my type."

 

"What is?"

 

Silence. Pure, unholy, un-godly-awkward silence. Gary was staring at Ash like he'd grown a second head. "...Why are you asking...?"

 

Ash shifted a little in his seat, swallowing nervously. "...I dunno. I just figured I would. If you were talking about it, anyway."

 

Scoffing, Gary pulled away from the side of his bed and settled back on the inclined mattress. He folded his hands on his lap. "I don't-- look, given the chance, I'd date a LOT of your teammates, all right? That's part of why I won't join. Locker-rooms and such." He shook his head a little. "It's right up along where everyone thinks it is: yeah, I find some of those assholes attractive. On the surface, at least. I think that's one thing you can keep to yourself, right?" His eyes narrowed, and Ash nodded immediately. "You're awfully okay with this."

 

Ash threw his hands up, gazing towards the ceiling. "It really doesn't bother me. I don't get why people think I'm gonna join in when they start throwing around 'faggot' or whatever. I don't care who likes who."

 

His neighbor looked slightly impressed with that. "Good for you. So then you're not going to start hounding me on which of the doctors I'd like to sleep with?"

 

"No...!" The dark-haired boy's shock quickly turned to bitterness when he saw the smirk plastered on his neighbor's face. "That's not funny."

 

Gary shrugged, apparently agreeing to disagree. Even if he'd meant it in jest, the question did what it was intended to do, and Ash was now cursing himself for thinking about it. For that matter, he wish he'd never asked about the other's 'type' at all. His teammates, of all things? He couldn't begin to picture just how odd that would be.

 

His face was turning red, he could feel it. Like it or not, he WAS thinking about it.

 

A few images involving his team members and the boy sitting in front of him had flown through his head (including a rather violent scenario involving Paul AND Trip) before Gary spoke to him again.

 

"Don't hurt yourself. I'm only joking with you. You make the dumbest faces sometimes." The older boy goaded.

 

Ash was grateful for the return to somewhat normal banter. He rubbed one side of his face, frowning. "Sure you aren't lookin' in a mirror?"

 

"Ooooh, my feelings, they hurt."

 

There was a pause, then, filled with unease and a little bit of awkwardness. Both of them shifted just a little, squirming as the silent seconds dragged out. Natural teasing or no, it was hard to just forget the revealing bit of conversation they'd had. It wasn't every-day breakfast conversation; a person he had once been very close to had just told him, up-front and bluntly, that he was gay. No, it didn't bother Ash...but he felt like it should have. Any other guy on his team, for example, would have been immensely disturbed by the way it was just put out there. Gary hadn't seemed at all reserved on it...until now, in the heavy silence. He had clammed up, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on his lap but not really LOOKING at anything in particular.

 

"...It won't leave the room." Ash finally told him, securing the secret and brushing off any uncertainty the other might have had about telling him about it.

 

Gary did look at him again, finally, quietly judging his words. One side of his mouth curled upwards, and he made a small 'heh' sound. "Says you. I don't know about you, but I don't exactly plan on being celibate my entire life."

 

It was a joke, and not a good one, but it meant that Gary wasn't overly-paranoid about Ash sharing what the two of them knew. They had reached some sort of mutual agreement and standpoint. He wasn't sure they were friends again yet, but Ash was also quite sure that they didn't hate one another. The rest of his visit - mother still mysteriously absent - was spent talking about benign little things such as class and what was on television. It was a drastic but welcome change from how Ash had encountered him the night before, and he had a feeling he wasn't the only one of them that thought so.

 

It turned out that Delia had gotten herself lost, and she was rather upset upon returning with cold tea. She insisted on tucking Gary into bed before she and Ash left. They promised to bring by more food Monday evening, and he, in turn, requested Ash tell him how his game went.

 

During the car-ride home was when Ash's phone went off, irritating his mother (who did not understand why every teenager needed one).

 

_'You didn't REALLY name me 'Assface' on your phone, right?'_

 

He shouldn't have smiled as wide as he did over the message on his screen. He shouldn't have been so okay with the sender just admitting to him that he favored boys. He never thought he'd be back on these sorts of speaking terms with Gary Oak, and in all honesty, he probably should have been.

 

It was still great, all the same.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuugh happy belated birthday, Gary, you little fucker. I was planning on getting this out on the 22nd as planned, but ultimately I became a lazy douchecanoe and it didn't work out that way.
> 
> I swear to god, this story ends up Ash/Gary. TRUST ME ON THIS ONE. It's not going to be Ash/Misty forever. Let the kid live a little before I completely destroy his life with my trash romance.
> 
> Thanksgiving is this week, for those of you not in the United States. Gonna get me some turkey and fucking potatoes out the butthole you have no idea. OTP: Won/Potatoes. Uh. That has nothing to do with this except that I'll likely have a little less time to write up Chapter Five this week. We're going to maybe be having dinner at my own home, which means I'll be cooking all day that day, and then there's Black Friday-- I don't shop on that day, I don't fancy getting run down by shopping carts, but it DOES mean that we may be putting up our Christmas Tree. In my new home! My first Christmas in my own home. It's cool yo.
> 
> Oh, yeah, and Christmas shopping all this coming month...oh my god kill me.
> 
> tl;dr: I may be hella busy, be patient and I'll put up the next chapter when I can.
> 
> p.s.- I don't give a damn but Paul/Gary/Trip is a little bit hot and I enjoy the idea a lot kthnxbai.


	5. Digging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People tend to bury things they want to forget about.

When Sunday rolled around, the home team absolutely crushed the opposition. The coach said that it was a good game, a 'character building' sort of game. "Mostly for the other team," He admitted while the whole lot of them were winding down in the locker room, "Keep it up, boys. I ain't the greediest son of a bitch there ever was, but I'd love to have the season win under my belt at Christmas. Wash up and head over to Space Tomato, I'm buyin." Which was, of course, followed by a loud round of cheering and hollering. There were good vibes being thrown around from player to player. Ash couldn't count the number of times someone ambushed him to tell him about how spot on his pitching was, and he threw back some praise of his own. It made him want to laugh when he thought about being worried, earlier in the week, about Tuesday's events affecting how he performed. Of course, he owed a lot of his good mood to how things had played out the couple days before.  
   
Space Tomato was the general celebratory location Coach Liebold took the team to. It was a typical mom-and-pop restaurant that couldn't decide what theme to stick to. The only thing relatively space-like about it was the name itself. No one could quite figure out who had decided on it: the owner insisted it had been her husband, the husband insisted it was her. Likewise, neither could agree on an interior theme. The owner, raised in a largely Italian family, had pictures of Little Italy and subsequent culture on the walls and on shelves, while her husband insisted on a sports oriented design. The hodgepodge of local high-school sports team pictures and jerseys clashed with the jars of dried pasta and kitschy pop-art chefs. Despite the fact it looked like a dive, Space Tomato also had some of the best food within a rather large radius. It was packed when the team stumbled through the scratched up and dingy front door, and the wait time to sit was going on a good twenty minutes.  
   
Several of the freshly showered and exhausted boys were taking the wait time to further relax, either by leaning up against the painted mural depicting a crude Venice or by sitting on the scotch-taped chairs or floor of the tiny lobby. A few ventured outside to horse around. And a couple, like Ash, were busy with their phones. He made sure to let his mother know that Brock was coming to pick him up, made sure that Brock WAS coming to pick him up later, and sent a couple game-result texts to friends.  
   
Those, of course, included Misty and Gary.  
   
He was a bit disappointed that the red-head hadn't been at the game. She had told him late Saturday that she was working, and he didn't fault her for it, but it still would have been perfect to share how elated he was with her in person. She had nothing but good things to say when he told her of their win (save for a teasing _'im so glad i cn tell my frnds my boyfrnd is gud @ playin w/ his balls'_ ) at least, and did mention that she would be with Brock when the older male arrived later.  
   
Gary hadn't responded by the time the team moved to the special area where several smaller tables had been pushed together. Ash couldn't decide if he was put out by that or not. He'd been nervous, finally messaging the number, and it had taken him a few seconds to finally hit 'send'. To be perfectly honest with himself, he wasn't exactly expecting a response at all.  
   
It did come, though, halfway through a pizza battle with Ritchie (in which Ash was totally winning). By that point, Ritchie protested going any further and handed the 'win' to the dark-haired boy. "I ate two thirds of one!" The boy was whining as the other team members teased and tormented him, "Ash's on his second, there's no WAY I'm catching up...!"  
   
Smirking, he stole his friend's plate and further cemented his triumph by finishing the piece Ritchie had admitted defeat over. "Sorry, Ritchie. Actually, no, I'm not sorry at all. This is delicious."  
   
"Oh my god, how are you not five hundred pounds?" Came his friend's disbelieving groan.  
   
"Magic." Ash replied, bluntly, before digging his phone from his pants pocket. Unlocking the screen revealed Gary's name at the top of the text message that popped up. He was honestly surprised, and flicked his thumb up to read what the other boy had said.  
   
 _'Let me just pull a medal out of my ass for you. GG tho. How much did you win by?'_  
   
"You fucking ass." He grumbled under his breath. He thought about that for a moment, shrugged, and started off his message back that way. When his phone confirmed the message had been sent, seconds later, he put it away and reached for another piece of pizza.  
   
"So, uh..." His eyes snapped up to meet Ritchie's across the table. The other team members had given up ribbing him and had gone back to their own seats. "Was that the beau?~"  
   
There were not enough shades of red for Ash's face to color right then. He nearly choked on a bit of green pepper and immediately downed half of his soda to clear his airway. "Whoa, uh, NO."  
   
"It wassssss~"  
   
"First, even if it was," Ash lowered his voice, pointing a threatening finger at the other boy's face, "don't put more bullshit out for everyone to hear just yet. I'LL handle that come Monday. Second, no, it wasn't her. It was Gary. Great job in being extremely good at creating disturbing pictures."  
   
The other boy's face went comically pale, and then he burst into peals of laughter as Ash sourly looked on. "Oh! Holy SHIT. That's hilarious. I'm sorry, man, really."  
   
"Yeah yeah."  
   
"Seriously." His friend wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand, still grinning in a way that was still a bit too devious for Ash's liking. "But Gary, though? You guys talk like that, now? Didn't take much."  
   
He shrugged, folding up the pizza slice in his hand much like a taco before biting into it. "Trust me, wasn't expecting it either. He's not bad."  
   
"Hey, I'm happy for you." The auburn-haired boy settled back into his chair, hands behind his head. Down the table there was a small burst of commotion as several of the team members began to blow paper straw wrappers at one another. "Anything new to report on it?"  
   
Briefly, Ash thought back to the day before. "Nah. Not much. All we did yesterday was talk. My mom brought him some food. That's about it."  
   
"Uh-huh. You're a shit liar."  
   
"You're a shit talker." He shot back, kicking at Ritchie's shins under the table and causing the other boy to snicker. "I'm serious, that's all we did. Except the number exchange. He wanted pictures of his dog off my phone."  
   
His friend leaned his arms on the table, now, leaning forward slightly. "I'm calling bullshit on that." Was what he whispered, causing Ash to frown. "Spill: what'd you figure out?"  
   
Ash knew where this was going, and felt extremely uncomfortable. To buy himself some time, he polished off the pizza in his hand, though Ritchie didn't seem impatient at all while waiting. "...I don't know, what exactly did you think I was gonna find out?"  
   
Ritchie's expression clearly told Ash exactly what his friend expected to hear, but he spoke up anyway. "You got invited back to see him, and you guys didn't talk about ANYTHING in particular?"  
   
"Like WHAT?" Ash blurted, glancing down the tables to make sure no one else was listening in. He also leaned in across the table, leering at the other boy. "Look, I swore confidentiality or some crap, all right? Leave it alone."  
   
"Whoa, hey..." Hands immediately came up, pleading for peace. "Chill. I get it. Whatever it is is good." Ash thought for sure the next words out of Ritchie's mouth would confirm what he already knew, and that his friend would see right through him if he lied about it. Instead, the auburn-haired boy shrugged, putting his chin on his hand. "He told you about why he tried to kill himself, I guess?"  
   
As horrible as it was, Ash felt relieved to hear that. He tried his best to not look it, though. "Mm." Was all he said, biting into a bit of crust. Ritchie nodded in return, looking pacified, and Ash nibbled on the rest of the bread in his hand. He didn't want to tell anyone what he knew, regardless of what it was. In fact, he was a bit put off by his friend's insistent nature over the matter. He glanced warily in Ritchie's direction, mind suddenly churning with ideas about his friend that he did not want to entertain in the slightest.  
   
He was saved from breaking up the silence between them by Ritchie lifting his head off his fist. "Heeeeyyy, here comes the giiiirrrrllllfrieeeennnnddd~"  
   
Sure enough, when Ash turned in his seat to look behind himself, he could see Misty headed through the tables towards them, Brock's imposingly tall body behind her. He grinned, any worry washed away at the sight of them both, and waved. Brock waved, and Misty waited until she was close to Ash before wrapping his shoulders in a tight squeeze. "Ooooooh, lookit the widdle pitchew~" She mock-simpered, pinching at his cheeks. It caused some laughter up and down the tables, followed by some scattered greetings to the two new-comers. She made to sit down, then, forcing Ash to scoot in his seat so they could both perch precariously on opposite halves of it. "Stealing a piece...My guess is you've had two or three whole pizzas already."  
   
"I thought I was cooking." Brock stated, using his fingers to pull Ash's head way back along his neck. He leered down at the snickering dark-haired boy. "You better still have room, I've got everything half ready."  
   
"Come on, like you really have to worry about Ash having room for food." Ritchie piped up, laughing as Ash rubbed at one of his eyes with a rather rude singular finger. The auburn-haired boy half smiled, passing Misty half of his soda when she asked for it. "Guess you're out of here then?"  
   
"Yeah, I better go." Ash replied, fixing his hat back upon his head. When he got up, he pulled Misty gently to her feet, his bag already in hand. "Talk to you later, Ritchie."  
   
"Kay. Go mack on your girlfriend."  
   
Misty's response, to the delight of just about everyone but Ritchie, was to peel the cheese off of a piece of pizza and lay it, sauce side down, over-top of the boy's head. The team was still laughing as they left the building.

"I get that you both like to pull each others' legs, but oh my GOD..." The girl muttered as they wandered towards where Brock's van was parked, "I don't know how you put up with him sometimes."

"I'm pretty sure he likes you, actually." Ash teased her, sidestepping away so that he was out of her reach. It was a wise decision, because she nearly raked her nails over his face.

It took a couple tries to open the sliding door of the wood-panel van. Brock claimed it had been his parents'...before they got a newer van. He had no choice but to drive the poor, half-dead vehicle, as he frequently helped take his many younger brothers and sisters places. To his credit, the van was relatively clean and only _faintly_ smelled like crayons and what was suspiciously akin to French fries. It was terribly old, though (Brock alluded in the past to the van having been made before HE was born), and the motor began tapping furiously as soon as he started the ignition.

"I'll get it fixed soon." His older friend said, as if reading Ash's mind before the boy could speak it himself. Ash didn't bother voicing his doubts. Brock frequently said this, yet the motor never sounded different and the engine light still glowed yellow. He wondered about that, sometimes; about why Brock managed to work a job or two and yet never seemed to have many new things. "Anybody coming from the right?"

The dark-haired boy swung around slightly in his seat, leaning back to get a good look behind the car parked to the right. "...Nope. Go ahead."

"Same here." Came Misty's voice from the left of the van. The old vehicle made an awful, low squeaking noise as it backed out of the space it was parked in, which turned into a dull growl as it shifted from reverse to drive.

Ash let out a strained sigh, sinking back into his seat and stretching his arms out to his sides. Victory celebrations were always fun, but he couldn't say he didn't like the idea of relaxing quietly with two of his friends. "Where's the rest of your squadron, Brock?" He asked, closing his eyes briefly. "It's not really like you to not have at least a million of them in the van waiting for us."

"Mom took them to see a movie." Brock answered, coaxing the van to go past the forty mph it was currently struggling with. "I think that 'Big Hero 6' thing. Is that out yet?"

"Came out a couple weeks ago, yeah. Wait, so she took ALL of them?"

Brock frowned a little, almost sheepishly. "Well...I dropped some of them off."

"So you're going to go grab half of them later?" Ash questioned, glancing at Misty.

"You know I have to."

"You don't, really...your mom could come back for half of them."

"Not funny." The bigger boy leered into the rear-view mirror for a brief second at Ash's smirking face.  
   
The house was indeed dark when they pulled up, the van choking quietly until it was silent, finally able to rest. Despite the size of his family, Brock did not live in a large home, nor did he live in a reasonable area of town. Ash's mother had notoriously been difficult about going to visit, and even at the age Ash was now, she was reluctant to allow him to go on his own. Misty's sisters, likewise, did not allow her to travel alone to the Harrison's. It didn't seem to embarrass their older friend, and he had even agreed that it was probably not a good idea. The surrounding houses were in various states of being run-down, and the few times Ash had seen one of the neighbors gave him the impression that Brock's family was the least worrisome on the block.  
   
The ranch house his friend lived in had more locks on the front door then Ash's own...and he knew that the number sometimes increased. It took a couple minutes for all six to be unlocked, and another moment for the security system to be deactivated. "Watch yourself in the kitchen, there was some painting going on earlier..."  
   
Painting was an understatement, Ash found, though it didn't surprise him much. Brock's younger siblings tended to leave messes behind that resembled the aftermath of gale-force winds, so of course the kitchen looked a complete disaster area when he stepped in. Paint was splashed over nearly every surface...save for the actual counters themselves, which he knew Brock had likely cleaned off before leaving. Ash whistled low, shrugging off his jacket and laying it carefully on a chair he was sure wasn't covered in paint. "It's like they turned it into a paintball range."  
   
"You're not too far off the mark." Brock admitted, finally appearing in the kitchen. "Now, are you actually eating?"  
   
"I said I would." The dark-haired boy replied, picking at a dried splotch of purple on the wall.  
   
"I don't know why I even asked..." There was a massive clattering, then, as Brock pulled open a cabinet. "Dammit...! I ask them to stack these things..."  
   
"You ask them to do a lot of things." Ash turned to look at Misty, who brushed by him to help Brock pick up the mess of pots and pans that had spilled out over the linoleum.  
   
With a grunt, their older friend lifted one of the pots up from the floor. "They're little kids. Just because the pair of you don't have any experience with them doesn't mean they're terrible creatures." He griped, bending down to place the rest of the pots and pans neatly back into the cabinet.  
   
"Kinda hard to tell when they're turning your house into a modern art masterpiece every other day." Came Ash's sly retort, followed up by a hasty cough when Brock leered at him.  
   
"Quit being an ass. He's right, you have no idea what having siblings is like."  
   
"Oh no you don't." Brock slipped a wooden spoon out of an old mason jar on the stove, waving it threateningly in Misty's direction. "You're just as terrible. YOU'RE the kid sister."  
   
The red-head gaped, putting her hands on her hips indignantly. "Excuse you...! I'll have you know I practically babysat my older sisters, thank you very much!"  
   
Ash couldn't help but crack a smile, watching his two friends bicker as Brock began to cook. The three of them usually did have this sort of banter when they were together, over one thing or the other. Brock's various brothers and sisters were a common topic when Ash and Misty visited his home, considering the chaos they wrought on a regular basis. The dark-haired boy leaned silently against the basement door, observing as Misty continued to argue her point while pitching in to cook. The girl on her own was a disaster with anything that didn't have microwave instructions, but she seemed to do just fine when Brock or Ash's mother was there to help her. Ash doubted she even knew how much better she did when she was involved in talking - or debating - with one of the two of them as she cooked.  
   
"So," Brock's voice cut through the pleasant fog in Ash's head, and he lightly shook himself so that he could focus on his friend's back, "For someone who's had a busy past few days, you're awfully quiet, Ash. Here, get over to this counter and cut the dough for me, I know you like to make shapes." With a snort, Brock tacked on: "And you say my kid sisters and brothers are bad."  
   
Scowling lightly, Ash rolled up his sleeves and turned his hat around backwards before stepping up to the counter. The dough had been rolled already and covered carefully in seran wrap, likely to settle while Brock went out to collect first Misty and then Ash. Using a knife that Misty passed him, Ash began to carve as many odd shapes as he could to spite his older friend. "Figures. You lure me in with the promise of food and then pump me for information. Joke's on you: I have an infinite amount of space in my gut, so there's no way you can force feed me into spilling the beans." He mockingly growled out, setting aside a crude looking star. Artistry was not a talent he possessed, he would admit to himself.  
   
His joke made Brock chuckle, the taller boy reaching out to pluck the sad looking, lopsided star dumpling. He dropped it into the pot on the stove gently before returning to his small cutting board piled with various vegetables. "Oh darn, you've got me all figured out."  
   
"Imagine that; Ash figuring things out." Misty innocently chirped to Ash's other side, followed by her making a miffed noise as the boy flicked her arm.  
   
"Children, no horsing around near the stove." With a tiny smirk, Brock immediately diced up a large stick of celery in a couple short seconds. "So? Let's hear it, Ash."  
   
Ash frowned again, balling up the left-over dough and absently pressing it flat with his hands. There was a steady pattering noise as Brock scraped the precise and neat bits of celery into the pot with the dumplings, and the soothing noise of the faucet running as Misty cleaned out the painting mess in the sink. "What do you wanna hear first?" He finally asked, glancing up at his friend.  
   
Brock gave a thoughtful 'hmm', rocking his knife into a carrot, then. "...Well, I'd like to know what finally changed between you and our lovely mermaid."  
   
Lips twitching into a smile at Misty's muttered threats over the nickname, Ash ran his own knife through the semi-flattened dough in long strips. "Why? Need some pointers?" He teased, earning him a sharp slap to the shoulder from first Brock, then Misty. "Wow, I'm feeling the love, guys."  
   
"If your mouth keeps running, you'll need to go catch it soon."  
   
"Ew, that stinks even from here." Ash retorted, dodging another light whap to his arm. "I dunno what really changed, actually. I was..." He thought back, remembering just how warm and content he had been before deciding to move in and kiss the red-head that first time. "...I was just really happy, and I thought it was the best thing to do. Worked, didn't it?"  
   
"I think it would've worked no matter what you'd felt." Brock said, quietly, earning him an angry - but flushed - look from Misty over Ash's head. "But I'm happy for you both. I'm sure I speak for a lot of people when I say we were all just waiting for the when, not the if."  
   
"You make it sound so obvious." Misty griped, face still lightly pink in color. Ash leaned towards her and pecked her cheek, further deepening the shade from rose to fuchsia.  
   
Brock again laughed a little. "Well, I'm not saying it was on point, but it was far from out of left field, if you catch my drift. Any plans yet?"  
   
Ash shrugged, his own face becoming hot. "I'm...still trying to wrap my head around it, to be honest. Sorry, Misty, that's not exactly romantic or anything."  
   
The girl shrugged, too, finally shutting off the water and flinging excess droplets off her fingertips. "Like I'm upset about something like that," She scoffed, "First of all, if I WAS, then that'd be admitting I didn't know you as well as I do. Second, what kind of girl do you take me for, Ash Ketchum?"  
   
"Point taken." He replied, grinning lopsidedly as she nudged his shoulder with her own gently. "I promise, I'll take you on a date soon. Just...let's get through the reveal to everyone else first."  
   
Their older friend had a similar smile on his face when Ash turned to look at him. "Good luck with that part. Some of us have been saying it for years, you know, but that won't help you when it comes to--"  
   
"People like Serena? Yeah, we've talked about that a little." Ash cringed, finally moving away from the counter to collect the trash can. "And I know a couple guys have a big thing for you, Misty. That Rudy guy is gonna be so crushed."  
   
"Oh...he'll be fine." Misty stated, waving off the worry. She held up the trash can so Ash, who had drier hands, could push the flour from the counter into the can.  
   
"They all will be." Brock firmly agreed, brushing the last of the vegetables and herbs into the broth with the chicken and dumplings. He carried the cutting board and knife to the dishwasher, and the other two began putting the leftovers from his chopping back where they belonged. "And so will you two. Don't stress out over what everyone else thinks."  
   
The words struck a chord with Ash, and as he thought on them, Brock went on to bring up exactly what he was thinking of.  
   
"And speaking of things people are going to get over eventually..."  
   
"Gary?" Ash asked, quietly.  
   
When he turned away from the fridge door, he paused. Both his friend and his girlfriend were at the tail end of an exchanged look, but neither looked embarrassed to have been caught doing it. Slowly, he shut the fridge, almost leaning on it before realizing that it was covered in still-wet kid's paintings. "...What do you wanna know?"  
   
"You know, I didn't think you were serious about the whole interrogation bit." Brock attempted to joke. Ash only gave him a faint smile, and his friend returned it almost apologetically. "If you want to leave it alone, it's all right. We're not going to drag it out of you."  
   
Misty nodded, wandering forward to run her hand over his shoulder soothingly. A surge of gratitude for the pair of them swam in Ash's chest, making his smile grow just slightly in size and in warmth. "It's okay; I don't mind. I'm just surprised you both still wanna keep hearing about it."  
   
Beside him, Misty reached down, taking his hand gently into her own. "You keep saying that." She murmured, "The whole thing's really been bothering you. We're not going to sit here and get upset because it's what you talk abut a lot. That doesn't help anybody."  
   
"Exactly. I'd like to think we're better friends then that." Brock added on, and Misty nodded.  
   
Ash smiled, nodded a little, and squeezed Misty's hand. "Thanks, really." He paused, thinking of just where to begin, and finally pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. "I dunno what it is but...we're getting along mostly because of his dog. He really cares about her, she makes him happy." He showed Misty the pictures Gary had taken Ash's phone for to send to his own phone, and the girl made a small squealing noise.  
   
"She's so cute, with her little cup." She giggled as Ash passed the phone to Brock. His older friend also laughed, swiping through the pictures Ash had taken of the dog.  
   
"She's great." Ash agreed, finally hitting the phone's idle button and sliding it back into his pocket. "And smart. I told you about it already, Misty, about what she's like. I think he spends most of his time with her, when he's home."  
   
"Man's best friend." Brock commented, absently, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.  
   
"Well, his, anyway." The dark-haired boy admitted, absently. "Mom came with me to see him, brought him a ton of food. She wants to make him a cake." He laughed, abruptly. "You should've seen his face, he was like...just didn't know what to do with himself while she was doing the 'mom' thing. Then she left for a little and..."  
   
He trailed off, biting his lip. Brock and Misty waited patiently, and he was grateful, but at the same time something pricked oddly at the back of his neck. He wanted to tell them the rest, knew they would keep it between the three of them, but--  
   
 _I think that's one thing you can keep to yourself, right?_  
   
But--  
   
 _And you can tell whoever you like, I really don't care._  
   
But...  
   
 _It won't leave the room._  
   
He and Gary had joked around a little after that, but Ash had made a sort of promise with those words, even after Gary's own statements that were polar opposites of one another. He wasn't spreading the information to just anyone; these two were his best friends. They'd never wronged him before, they'd been by him longer then anyone else he knew aside from his mother. But...  
   
...but why was he so conflicted over this? Why did this matter so much?  
   
"Ash?" Misty asked, gently, and he jolted a little.  
   
"Sorry." He told her and Brock, but couldn't bring himself to smile reassuringly. If they noticed his unease, they said nothing. Swallowing, he finally went on. "Um...I asked him about a couple things. The whole thing with Liebold and the teams-...you don't know about that, Brock, but Coach Liebold had this huge hard-on for trying to get Gary to join a bunch of the sports teams, he says he's something really special."  
   
Brock raised his eyebrows a little. "I can't say I'd ever thought about him that way. But Gary said no?"  
   
"Yeah." Shifting a little, Ash nodded. "And Coach wasn't the only one who asked. Mr. Oak did, too."  
   
Beside him, Misty winced a little. "I'm guessing that didn't go over well." She commented, likely remembering what Ash had told her about his first visit.  
   
"I dunno how it went, exactly," He admitted, "Gary wouldn't tell me and Coach and the teacher kinda brushed it off like it wasn't a big deal. The only thing Gary said was that he didn't really want to talk about it and that...the whole thing with his grandpa asking was sorta iffy."  
   
"Do they not have a good relationship?" Brock asked, suddenly, looking puzzled. "I guess I've never seen anything to suggest it was good, but I've never seen anything to the contrary, either. Come to think of it, they don't interact much at school, do they?"  
   
Pausing to think on this, Ash huffed. "...No, they don't. Not that I've seen. Apparently it's...kinda rocky, and that's not just based on what I saw, either, and I don't think it's as simple as them both hating each other. Mom said that his grandpa did a few things he regrets in the past, and that's probably why they don't get along, but he doesn't know how to fix it or something. I...don't really get it. Gary's parents aren't around, so...I guess maybe I don't understand why him and the teacher aren't closer. All I've got is my mom; I can't imagine being that mad at her. It must be lonely."  
   
He stopped, then, a light coming on in his head. "...It _has_ to be lonely. That's why he stays with Bree all the time, I bet."  
   
"It would be." Came Misty's voice, "When my sisters and I fight and they all ignore me, it's awful. Usually I can count on one of them to crack so I'm not all by myself, but until then it's the worst."  
   
Brock was silent, and Ash peered at him, ready to go on. Something on his friend's face made him freeze, however. Several emotions were clashing on the young-man's face.  
   
When Brock finally spoke, it was in a quiet tone. "I don't know exactly how that feels, I guess. My sisters and my brothers are always constantly hounding me, so even if most of them might be angry with me, there's still a few left who want to hang all over me." He admitted, "...But...being without your folks is rough, especially if they choose that for themselves."  
   
Something was off. Ash could feel the shift in the air, and from the way Misty gripped his hand, he knew she did as well. "...What do you mean?" He asked, hesitantly.  
   
His friend looked up, met his eyes, and sighed tiredly. "...You both weren't really in the picture, but for a while I was the only adult here...'adult' in this case meaning someone who pays the bills and takes care of the house entirely." Upon seeing Ash and Misty's shocked faces, he nodded and rolled his shoulders in a way that was an attempt to look unbothered, but came off as stiff and forced. "My mother ran off when I was eight, didn't come back until I was entering high-school. Dad took off when I was twelve."  
   
"What...?" Misty's voice was breathy and disbelieving. "Brock...That's how many years--...You're saying you managed all your brothers and sisters alone...? How?"  
   
"Luck and a prayer, mostly." He murmured in reply, his crossed arms tensing up slightly. "There were a lot of days where we had very little. Dad must've felt bad for us, because he showed up once a month or so with money or food, but not much. He turned up the same time mom did; said they were trying to work things out. They went back to the way things were like the past hadn't happened at all." He rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling with a short sigh. "I thought the cops were going to come and take us all, sometimes. You can't live two years without your folks, no matter if you're twelve or fourteen, not with that many little kids in the same house. We'd have gone to CPS and the foster system for sure. I struggled, trying to keep them all from saying a word. No 'I miss mommy' or 'I want daddy to come home'. I had to make sure they all had lunches that were nice and full so no one would send up red flags, even if it meant I had to bum lunch off someone else..."  
   
"Like us." Ash filled in, memories surfacing of joking with his friend about him not having food and forcing half of his mother's lovingly packed lunch on him. "...Jesus, Brock...why didn't you say anything to us?"  
   
"Would you have?" He asked, sharply, followed by "I'm sorry." when he saw both of them flinch. "...Would you, in my position? You're both my best friends...now I know I can trust you both with my life, but then? I had trusted my mother and father with it, and they abandoned not just me, but a bunch of little kids that suddenly looked to me for food and care. I didn't know who to turn to at all. I was afraid of talking to the wrong person and being blamed for us all being found out. It was a...really hard time." He was quiet for a few moments, apparently lost in his past where he was just barely old enough to take care of himself. Ash's own mind was blank with shock. The information was a lot to take in...almost too much. He couldn't believe that one of his best friends had been suffering for that long of a time, right beside him, and he hadn't caught on to a thing. He had a million questions about what Brock had just shared, but couldn't pick one to ask first.  
   
Misty was the one who asked one, instead.  
   
"...What did you do for money? You said you paid the bills..."  
   
Their friend's eyes turned to her, then, still with that far off look deep in his irises. His mouth worked for a second. "...Things I'm not proud of." He finally admitted, looking defeated and ashamed. "Things I'd be in a lot of trouble for and that I never told my parents about. Dangerous things. There were days I didn't get home until well past midnight, where I didn't sleep because I was still terrified." He petered off, swallowing thickly and running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for all of that to come out, right when you were talking about--...I'm sorry."  
   
"Don't be sorry." Ash blurted before even thinking about it. "Don't. It's...it's pretty messed up, but...I'm glad you told me. Us." He corrected, peering briefly at Misty, "I will never get mad about your sisters or brothers again. Holy _fuck_."  
   
"Promise me that that won't leave this house." Brock asked, voice sounding too thick for Ash's liking. His friend looked much older in that moment, one hand rubbing at his face tiredly. "Don't even say it in front of my family. None of them know about the kinds of things I did to get by, then. They want to pretend that time never existed...and until I can leave, that's how I hope it stays. If I said anything now and it made them go AWOL again..."  
   
The end of his statement was left open to interpretation. None of the things Ash thought of to finish it were pleasant. He nodded. "Okay, Brock." He murmured instead. "Okay."  
   
It was the closest he'd ever seen Brock come to an emotional breakdown of that kind. There were times he remembered Brock becoming angry, overly-so in a way where fists flew but Brock himself remained silent. An angry Brock, Ash learned, was an eerily silent one. He had seen him deck a few people in the years he'd known his friend. Ash had never, ever seen him get so emotional as he had there in the paint-covered kitchen. He sometimes got overly-dramatic in regards to girls, but never once had his voice sounded so shaky and full of pent up grief.  
   
 _Things I'm not proud of_ , he'd said, _Things I'd be in a lot of trouble for_.  
   
Ash didn't say it, but all of the ideas swimming in his head when he listened to those words terrified him, too.  
   
The kitchen had been as quiet as a grave for some time when Brock finally gave a small sniff and abruptly headed back to the stove, staring down at the pot as he stirred absently. His eyes were still far away, but the pinpricks of fear that had been there were gone. All that was left was revulsion and something cold, something Ash didn't like.  
   
"...He's gay, isn't he?" His friend suddenly spoke aloud, perhaps louder then necessary. The question came out of nowhere and threw Ash for an unpleasant loop.  
   
The grip on his hand tightened. He had almost forgotten Misty's presence. "Who is?" She asked, sounding wary and just as confused as Ash was.  
   
"Gary." Was Brock's answer. "That's the big secret, isn't it?" When Ash didn't reply, he peered over his shoulder at the pair. "...I had a feeling, that's all."  
   
Though his tone was much softer, it did nothing to calm Ash's nerves. He nodded once, jerkily, and watched Brock carefully to gauge his reaction.  
   
Brock noticed this, and Ash thought he caught a faint blush crossing the boy's cheeks before his friend turned back to the stove. "I didn't mean for it to come out...like that. Just trying to get back on topic."  
   
"You have a funny way of doing it." Ash slowly replied, cautious in choosing his words, "I'm supposed to be the one with no tact."  
   
That got Brock to laugh, even if it was only a short but loud bark. "You're right. I'm sorry." He acknowledged, "Really. I don't want to get my feelings mixed up between the two. I'll be...weird...for a couple minutes, bare with me."  
   
"I think you're entitled to it, really." Misty admitted, stepping away from Ash to approach Brock. Ash followed behind her, clapping his hand on Brock's shoulder while Misty leaned on the counter next to the stove.  
   
Brock smiled down at the simmering pot sadly. "I know. I'm not a martyr or anything, I know I get a few minutes once in a while to just let everything go when it comes to...that. But in the end," He took a deep breath, looking from Ash to Misty, "...In the end, it's all done and over with. Do I like the fact that my parents never talk about it, never apologized to us and never let me grieve over that time? No, but it's all over with now."  
   
"Doesn't mean you can't talk about it." Ash leaned his arms on the counter, breathing in the smell of broth that was floating out of the pot. "...Actually...Maybe we all should start."  
   
"Start what?"  
   
"Talking more. Not just about little things. I was thinking about it a couple nights back...up until this whole mess started, I don't remember having talks with you guys like this one...or the one with you and your family, Misty." Both of his friends weren't looking at him, but the expressions on their faces showed clear bemusement. "It's weird...we're all best friends, but I don't think I know as much about you guys as I should."  
   
They were all quiet for a moment or so, staring off into space and just thinking. Ash's phone chimed, breaking the silence, and his friends glanced at him as he dug into his pocket. Tapping the button on the side showed he had a text message, and for a brief moment he thought it was Gary again. Instead, it was from Ritchie, and he tapped in a small reply before putting the phone away. It still had served enough to break up their collective pensive moment.  
   
"What happened to your dad, Ash?"  
   
He flinched, then, and glanced warily at Misty. "Huh?"  
   
The red-head shrugged, crossing her arms. "...You said we should start having 'real talk'...and you know about what happened to our families." Was her soft explanation. "...You only live with your mom, and I've never seen any pictures of your dad."  
   
Brock didn't comment, but glancing his way showed that he was watching Ash out of the corner of his eye. Though he knew it was silly, he felt cornered. He wondered if maybe that was one of the reasons why they'd never tried doing this sort of thing before, but steeled himself before frowning at the counter. "...I don't know. Mom never talks about him. If she does, it's not on purpose. The most I got out of her was that he met her when she was still in school and he used to visit her restaurant. He split a little after I was born."  
   
"You've never wanted to know where he went?" Brock murmured, finally turning off the stove.  
   
Ash shook his head. "Not really. I think I asked a couple times when I was little, but when he never waltzed through the front door year after year, I got the idea that he didn't want to come back. Whatever. He can choke on a dick for all I care. It's bad enough he ditched mom. If he came back now, after all this time, I'd probably take a couple swings at him. You can tell that mom's still hurt over it, I guess she really loved him. To me, there's no excuse he could give me that'd make me understand why he had to leave her."  
   
"Your mom's lucky to have you." Peering up, he saw Misty approach him, and he straightened so that she could embrace him.  
   
"My mom wanted a girl." He flatly stated, smirking as Misty began to laugh. "She did, ask her. Why do you think my middle name is Casey?"  
   
"You would've been a weird looking girl."  
   
"Hey!"  
   
"Well, you would." The girl admitted. "Maybe I'm just not good at picturing it. Anyway..." Her expression turned slightly soft, "It's good you both have a strong bond. I guess a lot of families like to say they have it when they don't...Nanny used to say that once you're an adult you appreciate your family a lot more."  
   
"I don't need to be an adult to see that without all mom's done, I'd be a goner." Giving her one last squeeze, Ash moved around Misty and headed towards the now-clean table. "She loves me. I'd be dumb to take that for granted. And she shows it, too." His thoughts once again turned back to the Oak family, and a frown crawled across his face as he took a seat.  
   
As if his thoughts had reached across miles, his phone sounded again. This time, the name that flashed across the screen was Gary's, and he slid his finger over it to access the message.  
   
 _'Oh my god have you ever smoked pot? I swear to god that's what they're giving me through my IV. I'm so fruit loops r/n. Before I go completely batshit, wanted to ask if you'd give Bree a bath tomorrow. Ask Shoelacey to wash my comforter, too, probably smells like sweaty dog.'_  
   
"Wrong number?"  
   
Ash blinked, looking up to see the amused faces of his two friends. "No?"  
   
"You looked so confused." Misty gently explained. "Who was it?"  
   
He passed the phone to her, and watched as her eyebrows moved further up into her hair. At last, the girl snorted, then giggled. "I thought that whole being drunk on drugs thing was a movie deal. 'Parently not." He deadpanned, watching as the laughing girl passed his phone to Brock.  
   
" _'Shoelacey'_?" Brock huffed, shaking his head with a grin curling up his lips. As he held the phone, it went off again. "...What the hell. _'There's a stink bug in here crawling on the sheets and I swear it's trying to communicate with me.'_ They've really got him down for the count, don't they? I wonder what for. He was conscious last time you talked to him, wasn't he?"  
   
Ash nodded, sliding open the keyboard. "He was..." He mumbled, beginning to type. _'Y r they doping u? I thought u were ok.'_  
   
The response came a second later, before he'd even put the phone away. _'Fucked up my insides. Don't take like a quadrillion different pills at once you feel me. Also I got mad and jerked out my tube earlier and they're pissed off at me. I'm sending the bug to shit-bomb the nurse's station.'_  
   
 _'Don't pull out ur iv then.'_  
  
 _'Eat fifty dicks, I do what I want.'_  
   
"Yeah, awesome dinner conversation." He grumbled to himself, rolling his eyes and hitting the small button that looked like a camera. "Hold on, guys, I gotta go full Instagram Hipster for a minute."  
   
"Oh great, I always thought you were immune. Now how will we cure the disease?"  
   
Snickering at Misty's response, he quickly took a picture of his plate and began typing once the chat window returned. _'no thnx, rather eat this insted. go 2 bed.'_  
   
There wasn't a response afterwards. Ash wasn't particularly worried, assuming the other boy had finally passed out. The heavy atmosphere that had been hanging around after their previous conversation had finally broken up, and the meal between he and his two friends was accompanied instead by more light-hearted small talk. It felt just like any other visit, but he wouldn't have traded out the discussions they'd had. In between jokes about what to expect the next morning and possible places they could meet up again just to hang out, there were small hints of...something different. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable to have added to their relationships with one another.  
   
They had to leave sooner then they'd wanted; Brock's family was just about done their movie and there wouldn't be nearly enough room in both vehicles to have Ash and Misty squeeze in with the various children. There was a rush to wash dishes and gather their things before heading out to the decaying van (that almost didn't start, that time).  
   
Ash and his mother happened to live closer, so it was their driveway the van rattled into first. The lights were still on downstairs as he wrenched open the sliding door and climbed out of the van. It took he and Misty together - after he kissed her goodbye, of course - to shut it once more.  
   
"You really have to think about getting work done on this thing." He told Brock, leaning on the open driver's side window. "I mean it, it's gonna fall apart soon."  
   
Brock gave him a sad smile in return. "It's just not in the cards right now, Ash. When it dies, it dies. We'll sell it for scrap somewhere and then figure out where to go from there."  
   
He stood on the front step, waving as the van squeaked its way back down the driveway and out along the road. When the sounds of its creaking and protested faded away, leaving the scattered barking of a dog or two, that the reality of the day coming sank onto his shoulders. All that had happened, all he knew...traveling back into the school building with all of that in his head seemed much harder now that he had a moment to think on it. The cold of late November slipped between every fold of his clothing, worming their way through his warm layers.  
   
With a start, he felt the familiar vibration of his phone in his pocket and grumbled for being caught off guard. It was enough to startle him out of just standing on his front step like an idiot, and he fumbled for his keys in his pocket while digging his phone out of the other pocket.  
   
He had the door unlocked and was just stepping inside when he opened the message.  
   
 _'Serena knows!!! Oh god help.'_  
   
Monday was going to be one hell of a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe a lot of you some apologies.
> 
> First and foremost, the fact that I stated months ago that this was going to get an update in December. It didn't, and it's stretched on long enough. I need to see this story through to the end and I do have some things planned. Here's to hoping I can get back on a regular schedule.
> 
> Secondly, the length of this chapter is shorter then the others. Hopefully you all enjoy it anyway.
> 
> Third, there's not much Gary in this chapter. There will be in the next couple.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me. I'll be doing what I can to keep updating this story as well as the 'Childish' series. I recently found that this story was swiped by a bot for a pay-to-download site. It's since been taken down, but I'd like to add a word of caution to those of you who write your own stories. You can find more information on my profile.
> 
> Here's to more chapters and more stupid Pokebabies.


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